The Demon Who Lived
by Forthwith16
Summary: Reborn as Harry Potter, Lelouch now has an entire magical world to sort out that, to his surprise, actually seems worse than Britannia. Known terrorists freely walk the streets. Corruption is rampant. A fool sits as the head of government. Oh yes, and every single eleven-year-old is given a wand that can replicate the effect of every geass he's ever encountered, including his own.
1. Y0S1 - The Day the Demon Was Reborn

**A/N:** Sadly, I own neither _Code Geass_ nor _Harry Potter_.

* * *

Year Zero  
Stage 01 - The Day the Demon Was Reborn

Slowly, as the days and weeks and months crawled by, it became easier to think. It felt less and less like he slept the entire day away, but for someone so used to burning the midnight oil, this existence had proven beyond infuriating. His motor skills were shot but recovering. He could barely remember things. The less said of his emotional control, the better. But on the upside, he could finally string a few words together without screaming in frustration. Words had always been chief amongst his powers, and he wanted them back.

It came as a strange relief that his brain had finally developed enough for him to contemplate how much he hated being a toddler. If this was his punishment for all of the bad things he'd done in the name of a better future…well, it could be worse. He would drive himself mad at this rate, true, but someday – he hoped – he would grow out of it.

As some consolation, however, he had doting parents who weren't monsters. He appreciated that, he admitted, even if their circumstances were less than desirable. From what he'd overheard, the Potters were in hiding from a terrorist with a silly pseudonym. When he'd first put it together, the irony had sent him into a laughing fit.

But the real surprise was magic. Wherever he'd ended up, magic was real. He was a wizard. With his geass gone, his only power at the moment seemed to be destruction fuelled by embarrassing emotional tantrums, but still. Perhaps he would be a healer in this life. He hoped he didn't have to sort whatever war raged in this world out himself.

Regardless, those were problems for later. Right now, Lelouch only needed to figure out how to convince his new father he had absolutely no interest in riding brooms.

* * *

From downstairs came the cry of James Potter. "Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off–"

_Peter Pettigrew!_ Lelouch growled in his own mind. He committed the traitor's name to memory, determined not to lose it to the peculiarities of being an adult shoved into an infant's body. _If I live through this night, I swear I will destroy you._

Despite his body's general inability to cooperate, Lelouch managed to scale his crib and escape. Lily Potter rushed into the room but moments later. Her wand flew into motion, barricading the door behind her with all manner of sorcery. Soon enough, she turned her attention to the son she'd come to rescue. The shock showed on her face when she found him standing a little unsteadily right beside her. Nonetheless, she scooped him up and quickly made for the nearest window.

And there she paused. Much to Lelouch's confusion and worry, she backtracked and placed him back into his crib. As her wand once more went to work, she whispered gentle reassurances that so contrasted with the resolved, resigned expression on her face.

The door to the nursery and much of the surrounding wall flew across the room in a thunderous crack and a mighty boom. Lily fingered her wand lightly as she turned to face the terrorist responsible for the destruction. He strode into the room completely at ease. The man's features were burned and distorted into a grim mockery of a human being.

"A displeasure, as always," Lily said.

The terrorist snorted in amusement. "Stand aside, woman. I give you this rare chance to demonstrate your supposed intelligence."

_He's after me?_ That was certainly new information.

"Just kill me and be done with it," Lily returned, apparently not having picked up on the subtext. "Kill me and leave my boy in peace."

"This is your last warning. Stand aside."

If nothing else, Lelouch's new brain shared his previous one's ability to think under pressure. How curious it was that the terrorist – and this man did indeed fit the word better than he ever had – seemed disinclined to simply murder Lily and be done with it.

Of course, Lily responded to the demand as would be expected of _most_ mothers. "Never."

Without warning, the terrorist snapped his wand upon her. So fast that Lelouch almost missed the words, he cast, "_Avada kedavra_."

It was done. With a flash of green light, Lily fell heavily to the ground, dead.

_Good job, Mum._ What wonderfully sarcastic words to go out on in this second chance at life.

"Foolish woman." The terrorist shook his head and approached Lelouch. "Now then, Harry Potter."

Out of the corner of his eye, Lelouch noticed Lily's wand had fallen into his crib. An idea immediately sprung into his head. It was a long shot, but it could work. He had no control over his accidental magic, but he _had_ just learnt a spell.

Lelouch snapped Lily's wand up in imitation of the terrorist and shouted, "Awada Kadabwa!"

Nothing happened. Lelouch cursed his underdeveloped body and lack of magical education.

Worse, the terrorist's response was immediate. Although the surprise showed on the man's twisted visage, he promptly disarmed Lelouch. Laughter – a horrid, uncertain thing as though he'd forgotten how – soon replaced the astonishment.

"Well, well. Now that's _respect_. If a prophesied child could possibly destroy _me_, this is the level of competence I expect. Well done, Harry Potter. Unfortunately, you must die now. Such a waste. Farewell."

Utterly helpless, Lelouch resigned himself to this abrupt end to a second chance he probably didn't deserve anyway. An incantation, a flash of green light, and then the world erupted in pain.

Lelouch knew no more until he woke up in what, in the near darkness, appeared to be a cupboard.

* * *

_Out of one hell and straight into another. Fantastic._

If there had ever been any doubt that this was a punishment, none now remained. He'd orphaned plenty of children. Turnabout was fair play.

In the dark of his cupboard, Lelouch rooted around for one of the rags that passed for a shirt. Carefully, he rolled it up with his left hand. Once he had, he took a few slow breaths to calm himself.

Now that he had the physical capacity to do work, Lelouch's so-called Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon forced him to do as many chores around the house as his body could manage before collapsing. Then, if he was lucky, they _only_ threw him into the cupboard under the stairs with some stale bread, locked the door, and forgot about him for the rest of the day.

Were it not for that bloody lock, Lelouch would have murdered the Dursleys in their sleep months ago. He'd executed men as Zero for lesser crimes than these monsters had committed against him.

Lelouch bit down on his rag, ignored the ache in his stomach, and braced himself against a wall. With a solid push, he popped his dislocated shoulder back into place. Once the pain subsided, he carefully tested his range of movement until satisfied with the results. With the obvious problem fixed, relatively speaking, he made an inspection of the rest of his body.

_Plenty of bruises, but nothing broken._ Today could have been much worse. _One of these days, they'll leave me an opening to use the phone or escape outside. There's no way this level of child abuse is legal in this society._

With a sigh, Lelouch collapsed onto the thin mattress that functioned as his bed. He rolled around until he eventually found a position that kept any pressure off of his right shoulder.

_Better me than an innocent Harry Potter, I suppose. I at least have the knowledge necessary to survive this trial._

* * *

It'd been an entire week since Lelouch had reported his own abuse, and nothing had happened. In his own world, he'd assume the police simply didn't care or merely considered him a child complaining about the cruel, unfair nature of parents who most definitely did not know better than him.

But magic was real. And it seemed hereditary, unlike geass. There had to be an entire magical community out there living in secret. This was, of course, impossible in the 'modern' world without a way to erase mistakes quietly and effectively; murder drew too much attention. Therefore, mind magic existed.

Lelouch clenched his fists, determined not to let his anger slip any further out into the real world. _I _will not _be subjected to this again._ Last time Suzaku had been his minder. This time, who knew? It could be the Dursleys themselves, but they seemed genuine in their hatred for all things magical. It would likely be someone else, someone he didn't yet know.

Over the course of his slave labour for the day, Lelouch managed to steal a pen and rescue some paper from the rubbish. As much as he hated this sort of security risk, it had to be done. He had no other recourse. He wrote down his suspicions and his plans and then stored the paper underneath a floorboard he loosened in his cupboard.

He would file another report with the police in a week and after random lengths of time thereafter if necessary to gather evidence. Probably sooner rather than later, the person keeping him imprisoned here would either make a critical mistake or, much more likely, would turn to a more effective solution than simply maintaining the status quo.

* * *

As had become a nightly ritual – if someone read his mind, he was in any case doomed even if his guard couldn't read his native dialect of English, so he paid the regularity no mind – Lelouch withdrew the pile of paper from beneath the floorboards of his cupboard. He read by the faint light of the corridor seeping inside.

_Why would I report my own abuse? What good would that do? It's not like anyone would care._

But that thought rang hollow in Lelouch's mind. It clashed with his pride. Even in this reduced form, he _knew_ he had intellect to spare. He wouldn't take pointless actions. If he made a report to the police, it would be with a purpose.

Lelouch seethed with fury as he felt the compulsion not to report the Dursleys' abuses snap in his mind. In sharp, rigid lines, he wrote down this latest violation. When he returned the papers to their home for the night, the latest found itself impaled and suffering from nearly a dozen tiny holes.

_Dudley starts school soon, and I assume I'm his age. Unless the Dursleys go to the trouble of pretending to homeschool me, they'll have to let me outside my cage. I may be able to force the matter if I can cause a big enough ruckus._

* * *

The cupboard door opened to reveal his wonderful Uncle Vernon.

The compulsion immediately snapped in Lelouch's mind. He _did not_ love, accept, tolerate, or even _mildly dislike_ his relatives. The look of defiance on his face earned him the hardest beating of his life, and for the life of him, he didn't care. He wore the injuries as a badge of honour.

* * *

As Lelouch read his latest attempt at escape, he let the hand holding the paper fall limp. He'd managed to run well enough to evade the police, he was sure – if they had even been called, of course. He'd stolen enough pounds from his aunt's purse to last him far longer than he could have been gone. That meant his guard had a magical way of tracking him which he didn't know how to evade.

_I give up. I need to stop trying before my guard does something to me that I can't undo._ The thought of a more _permanent_ solution brought Lelouch up short. _Unless…_

Lelouch spent the next hour examining his thoughts and trying to break any compulsions that might be on him to no effect. He'd admitted defeat of his own volition this time. If this desperate gamble failed completely, what did it even matter? He had no friends here, no allies, and no purpose.

No, that wasn't true. He did want to avenge his second parents. That plan hadn't exactly worked out the first time around, but it _had_ kept him motivated.

_I don't know if Pettigrew is even alive. Sirius is probably dead since he still hasn't come for me, but surely he at least exposed the rat first._

With a sigh, Lelouch took pen and paper in hand and wrote down the most halfwitted idea of his second life. If he was wrong, it wasn't like he had anything to lose.

* * *

Lelouch breathed weakly, yet another compulsion broken. He felt far stronger than he had any right to, but he suspected it would still take a few days at least before he got back onto his feet. Idly, he noted that magical healing beyond mundane medicine must exist.

_No changes have been made to my circumstances. I'm not even allowed to kill myself. My gaoler either doesn't care or actively wants me to be just shy of suicidal. _It was the only conclusion Lelouch could reach. If a six-year-old attempting to kill himself didn't shock everyone involved with his captivity into making _major_ changes, then this environment had to be unique in some manner or intentional. _At least I'm wanted alive. That's something._

It was. Although halfheartedly, Lelouch wrote that down as potential leverage for the future. Not that it helped him while his enemy and their motivations both remained unknown. Until that changed, the only idea he had left was attempting to gain control over his magic. Unfortunately, not only had he experienced no luck with that beyond completely random effects, every failure that got back to the Dursleys earned him a beating and a week of starvation.

_I give up. I really give up this time. This is impossible without an outside conspirator. I can barely even think straight half the time. If only I could find my way back to the magical community…_

* * *

While his teacher finished explaining their math assignment, Lelouch finished filling in all of the answers that would give him exactly a passing grade. The teachers knew he could do better and, he was sure, had long since been ensorcelled to not act on their suspicions of his home life. So long as he passed, no one at school made a fuss. If Dudley failed, mindless thug that his cousin was, he would just take the beating for doing better.

School was a waste of time, naturally, but it remained a refuge nonetheless. Here, he was safe from the elder Dursleys. Here, he had a bit of autonomy. Here, he could rest and recover.

As he always did, Lelouch spent all of his free time in the library. Dudley refused to enter the place unless required even for such exquisite pleasures as beating his freak cousin to a pulp. Even better, his mysterious gaoler didn't appear to care that he'd found this sanctuary.

It was a shame the library, for the greater part, only collected books targeted at children, but Lelouch made do. Although some works were shared across both worlds, this one had an entirely new set of leisure reading that he needed to work through if he wanted to understand the culture.

Noticing that the shelves containing new releases had changed, Lelouch turned toward them. His eyes automatically skipped over the picture books and anything with less than a hundred pages. On his first pass, he read through the authors for any he recognised. There were a few, but none he particularly cared for. On the second, he glanced at the titles for anything that leapt off the spine.

Lelouch froze in place even as his eyes widened.

Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion_. It can't be. Who…_ The spine listed the author as one H Granger, not a name he knew in the slightest.

Almost afraid to find out, Lelouch took the book from the shelf with trembling hands. He flipped from page to page with his entire life story sprawled out before him from the beginning of his rebellion to his ultimate death. It even held major details only C.C. or Suzaku could know.

_Or my parents._

The absolute last thing Lelouch needed in this horrid new world was a reborn Charles zi Britannia and Marianne vi Britannia. He skimmed through the book again, this time absorbing it in more detail. There were a few obvious errors clearly left in place as a test as well as some creative liberties, but it held almost startling levels of accuracy. He'd just gotten into his second rebellion when he read something that confirmed the author's identity, something he _knew_ his queen would have never told another soul in less extraordinary circumstances.

A giddy laugh escaped Lelouch. _Of all the people who might follow me here, of course it would be you._ He flipped to the dedication page and read, 'To my emperor and our infuriating witch. Seek me out.'

Lelouch snapped the book closed with a smirk on his face. This changed everything.

* * *

**A/N: **Cue _Yuukyou Seishunka_.

I admit to reading more than a few MoB!Dumbledore fics as guilty pleasures, but in all honesty, they tend not to work. Not because you can't characterize him that way. It's a perfectly valid interpretation. The problem is when Dumbledore is the villain, he's in an incredible position of power over our heroes. He has a century of experience. He has hundreds, if not thousands, of followers willing to jump on command. He can make people dance like puppets with potions, charms, and mind magics. It's basically a hopeless situation and is thus the perfect setting to dump protagonists in to watch them suffer and see what they're made of. Yet somehow his schemes _usually_ collapse like a house of cards just by poking them a little.

See the problem?

Whoever is behind Lelouch's predicament here knows what they're doing. It could be Dumbledore. It could be the Death Eaters. It could be someone else entirely. It could be a conflux of all of the above.

Regardless, one thing is certain: Sybill Trelawney gave a _very_ different prophecy.

* * *

Behold! A shameless self-promotion! I have a Patrreon account under the username Forthwith if you want to support my writing in general.


	2. Y0S2 - The Black Queen

**A/N:** Sadly, I own neither _Code Geass_ nor _Harry Potter_.

* * *

Year Zero  
Stage 02 - The Black Queen

_So I'm fully Britannian this time. Sort of._ As far as Kallen could tell, she was in some strange alternate history universe where Rome conquered Britannia. There'd still been a British empire, most events in history sort of matched up, and everyone spoke some weird Frenchy dialect of English, but the world was mostly okay and slowly getting better.

Hearing footsteps approaching, Kallen quickly exchanged her history book for a far more age appropriate picture book while simultaneously pushing her family's massive, unabridged dictionary underneath the nearest chair with her foot where the trimming hid it.

"You doing okay, princess?"

Kallen smiled up at Dan Granger. "Yes, Dad," she said with fond exasperation. "Just reading. You and Mum don't have to check on me all the time."

"Yes, you're a big girl now. I understand."

Kallen rolled her eyes but swallowed her pride and let Dan get on with being a good parent.

"Dinner will be ready soon. When you're done with that book, go wash up, okay?"

"I will."

"If you need any help, call for us."

"I'll be down soon." Kallen's pointed insistence only elicited a chuckle from Dan as he departed.

Left alone in the library again, Kallen made a mental bookmark and returned her history text to its proper place on the shelves. She managed to lug the dictionary back into place as well to the sound of a dozen muttered curses upon her tiny body. It wouldn't do to be caught reading anything _too_ advanced when other children were still trying to figure out how to talk.

In truth, Kallen was already pushing the limit of what she could get away with before raising red flags. The Grangers thought her a prodigy, and they weren't _wrong_, but she also had a few more years of education under her belt than they knew. Since reincarnation didn't appear to be a thing in this world any more than her own, she tried not to push their suspension of disbelief. They didn't deserve that. She felt guilty enough already without shattering the masquerade.

Kallen sighed and pushed away such gloomy thoughts as she made her way to the nearest sink and washed up. Instead, she focused on her indulgence in this new life to bring a smile back onto her face. It'd been so long since she'd had a stable family life. No politics. No war. No drama. No death. No heartbreak. Even if the Grangers weren't _Mum and Dad_, they came close enough as to make no difference.

A twist of the knobs turned the sink off. Kallen flicked most of her hands' lingering wetness into the bowl and then climbed down the step stool allowing her to reach everything. She brushed them against her skirt on her way out and down the corridor.

As Kallen walked past the library door, she realised she'd forgotten to turn off the lights. She _could_ go through the hassle of trying to reach the switch. It would be the easy thing to do. It would be the safe approach.

Gnawing on her lip, Kallen succumbed to the bad decision. She mentally focused on the switch and _willed_ it to go down.

Nothing happened.

Refusing to admit defeat, she kept trying to flip it off with her mind.

Still nothing happened.

Frustrated, she thought really hard at it, demanding the lights go out.

They did. Unfortunately, the bulbs burst and the switch, of course, remained unmoved.

"Eep!"

"Hermione!" Emma's voice called out from downstairs. The sound of her heavy footsteps raced closer. "What happened!"

"I, uh – the lights broke!" Kallen called back. _Bloody magic. Why can't you just do what I want you to? How many things have I destroyed now?_

Once Emma had arrived and fussed over Kallen until she was absolutely sure her daughter was alright, she stepped into the library to take stock of the situation. The correct conclusion came within moments. "Did you have one of your 'special moments' again?"

"Sorry," Kallen mumbled, awkwardly staring down at her feet as she shifted in place.

Emma gathered Kallen in her arms and hoisted her up to carry downstairs. "It's okay, princess. As long as you're not hurt."

"I'm fine, Mum." To avoid another bout of worried parental fussing, Kallen added, "But I'm hungry."

That got a laugh. "Of course you are. I'll clean up later, then. Your father should just about be finished setting the table anyway."

"With _real food_, right?" Anything else was one indignity too many. Kallen had vague memories of being breast fed and nightmares of baby food.

"Of course, Your Highness." In stark contrast to such deference, Emma tickled Kallen without mercy. No amount of squirming could escape her grasp. "Only the best for you." At long last, however, once victorious on the dishonourable field of battle, she released her daughter to walk hand in hand. "You are the most strangely picky three-year-old I've ever met." She said that, but her expression practically broadcasted her gratitude for having such an easy to raise daughter.

With all the haughtiness worthy of her former aristocracy, Kallen harrumphed. "It's not my fault other children have such poor taste."

"Would that all parents be so blessed," Emma said, trying not to laugh.

Kallen grinned up at her second mother, happy to be able to make her new parents happy. She'd screwed up so badly last time, the shame would never leave her. This time, she swore, would be different.

And so far, it was.

* * *

_Another boring day of school._ Kallen sighed. Spotting a rock on the pavement, she gave it a solid kick. She took a half-step to line herself up with a follow up when she reached the rock again. _It could be worse, I suppose. Skipped a few years, so at least I'm not suffering as much as I could be._

There was, of course, the _other_ problem. Dan and Emma were worried about her. Oh, they knew she had social skills, but they also knew she lacked any connection whatsoever to her peers.

_It's not _my _fault. They're _children_. What am I supposed to do? It's not like they can hold a conversation. Their ability to play sports competitively is basically zero. _She snorted. _They don't even make good minions._

A longer sigh escaped Kallen. She was lonely. She admitted it. Children weren't engaging enough for friendship, and adults never took her seriously. Not that she blamed them. She was six. What did she expect?

One hope did exist, however. It was only a fool's hope. Half of her would curse its fulfilment even as the other half rejoiced. But it was hope nonetheless. A hand unconsciously slipped up to finger a nonexistent gunshot wound over the heart.

_We died at the same time in the same way. C.C. should be here with me. In this world of five billion souls. Somewhere._

This time, Kallen's sigh had a distinctly resigned tone.

_The Internet is barely even a thing right now. Computers are trash. Cell phones are bricks. People read _newspapers_. How on Earth am I supposed to find C.C. without even a name or description of what she looks like?_

Kallen split off from the group of kids being escorted home to walk the last block to her house. When she got inside, distracted, she called out, "Tadaima!"

"Hermione?" It was Dan home early from the surgery today, then.

"Oops." Finding her way into the parlour, where she discovered Dan reclined on the settee with a book, Kallen replied, "Yeah, it's me. I'm home."

"What did you say before?"

Channelling her inner Lelouch, Kallen easily lied. "Tadaima. It's Japanese. I picked up some of the grammar and vocab from a kid at school."

"That's wonderful," Dan said, more genuinely happy than he should be. "A friend?"

_Oh._ Kallen shifted in place. This could quickly spiral out of control. "I… Well… No. I read a book about the language. I'm sorry for lying."

Dan set his book aside and opened his arms in invitation. Accepting it, Kallen dropped her knapsack and leapt into them. The hug quickly turned into a snuggle.

"Hermione, princess, your Mum and I only want you to be happy. We think it would be good for you to make friends, but we're not ashamed you haven't."

"I know. I just don't like worrying you."

Dan placed a kiss on the crown of Kallen's head. "It's a father's job to worry about his daughter her entire life."

_No, only for his entire life._ Eyes wide, Kallen frantically shoved that depressing thought out of her mind before Dan noticed her distress. _No dragging old world baggage into this one._ Searching for a subject change, Kallen's eyes landed on the book Dan had set aside. "_A Winter's Tale_?"

"Mm-hmm. Shakespeare."

_Huh. He didn't write a play by that name in the old world._ The cultural bridges between Britain and Britannia were weird.

"It's one of my and your mother's favourites. It's where your name came from."

Now Kallen was curious. "Really?"

"Yep." Dan picked up the play and flipped through it. "See? Queen Hermione."

A stab of loss shot through Kallen. She'd never wanted to be royalty, but she should have been. For perhaps the millionth time, she cursed the noble git she'd fallen in love with. "Is this why you and Mum call me 'princess' all the time?"

"No." The response came quickly and firmly. "That's because you are our little princess."

Kallen rolled her eyes. _Fathers._ "Could we read it together?" Plays were best read aloud, after all.

Without hesitation, Dan agreed. They split the list of characters between them and began. A couple hours later, Emma returned home and joined in the fun. They weren't even halfway through when Kallen's stomach growled and reminded them that they needed to eat. By a unanimous decision, there would be no cooking tonight. Dan got up to order takeaway.

While they waited for him to return, Emma asked Kallen about her day. She idly answered questions when posed and demonstrated some basic knowledge of Japanese while her mind slipped back to the problem of friendship. She'd thought about how to find C.C. off and on for years without making any progress. Every idea she came up with limped away with dozens of holes poked into it.

"Mum, how do you find a needle in a haystack?"

"Hmm?" Although confused by the sudden change in topic, Emma offered up a solution. "Set the hay on fire."

Kallen rolled her eyes. _Yeah, I'll just kill everyone until I find someone who doesn't die. Wouldn't even work. C.C. had her code stolen._ "That's cheating. You can't destroy the hay."

"A really big magnet, then."

That would work, true, but it sounded prohibitively expensive. Kallen _could_, in theory, and only in theory, send a letter to every person in the world and wait for a reaction, much like the magnetic field would permeate every straw of grass.

"Too expensive."

"Well, how about pushing it all into a pool? The needle will sink to the bottom while the hay floats."

_That's no different than the magnet solution. It always comes down to sorting the needle from the hay. If only I could get the needle to come to me instead._

Kallen paused and turned that thought over in her head. Perhaps she'd been approaching this the wrong way the whole time. She didn't need to find C.C.. She needed to _enable_ C.C. to find her.

"Not what I was looking for, Mum, but thanks anyway. I think I answered my own question. Sort of." Kallen just needed a way to announce her presence to the entire world. She needed to become famous.

* * *

The idea hit her all at once.

Kallen could, of course, try to replicate some of the advanced tech from her own world. She knew enough about science to draw attention to her, but that might raise too many questions.

Her magic would, naturally, draw attention in a world that didn't believe magic existed. That said, she doubted she was unique. That implied enforced secrecy. Revealing magic to the world might very well get her assassinated.

But there was one thing she knew she could do while only drawing the right kind of attention to herself. It was so simple. She read all the time. The next logical step was to become an author. Her apparent age would do half the work for her. If she wrote something even half-decent, publishers would pounce on her like lions after their next meal. If she wrote something _good_, she might very well become a household name.

And did she ever have a story to tell.

Kallen prepared herself for battle. She maximised her cuteness. She steeled her determination. She approached the parent who would be least inconvenienced by her request.

"Mum, could I use the computer?"

"Hmm?" Emma's eyes kept moving through her book, no doubt searching for a place to pause. "What for?"

"I wanna write a story."

Emma hummed as she thought. Soon, she closed her book with her thumb jammed between its pages. "I don't know. We should ask your fa–"

"Please? I know how to use…" Now that she thought about it, Kallen had no idea how far along operating systems were in this world. Still, she was a bright young woman who had worked with Rakshata at times. She could figure it out. Worse-case scenario, she would learn one of this world's programming languages and write her own software. "Well, I know how to type, and I promise I won't delete anything."

Eyebrows arched. "You know how to type already?"

Kallen nodded.

"Well, I suppose it's fine. But if your father or I need the computer, you'll have to give it up."

"That's fine. Thank you, Mum." Kallen gave Emma a quick thank you kiss on the cheek and then ran upstairs to the study.

As the painfully ancient computer three decades out of date for her booted, Kallen threaded her fingers together and cracked her knuckles. She'd never written anything longer than an English essay before, but it should be easy enough to write an autobiography and sell it as fiction. C.C. had told her enough to fill in all the gaps. She might have to take a few creative liberties to better the narrative, but the story already had everything a reader could want: love, drama, action, betrayal, politics.

"Let's see. What title will instantly catch everyone's attention…" After a few seconds, it came to her. Kallen typed, 'Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion.'

* * *

Kallen silently crept through the house to sneak a late night snack from the kitchen when she heard voices from the parlour. Having dumped the first draft of her autobiography onto her parents earlier in the day for preliminary editing, she crept closer to eavesdrop.

"Emma, do you have any idea what a… How do you even pronounce this word?"

"I have no idea, but I'm keeping a list. That particular word shows up in a few other places. From context, I think it's a computer of some sort."

_Oops._

Now that Kallen thought about it, writing about a world roughly thirty years ahead of this one technologically might have been a bad idea. Never mind the lack of context. People might become suspicious when an eight-year-old girl turned out to be exactly right about basically everything. And then there was the fact that she spoke three languages now when her parents only knew about one-and-a-half of them. Who knew how many times she'd slipped on that end.

Still, even if she had to answer some uncomfortable questions and prevaricate, this was for the best. She couldn't think of a better way to find C.C. if the witch were here to be found.

"Do we want to talk about the fact that our little girl apparently knows what arousal is?"

Kallen swore under her breath. She hadn't written anything explicit, not even close, but there were certainly certain feelings she'd alluded to which she _should not_ understand at her age.

"I think I'll give her the talk after I finish reading through this. And maybe talk to her about choosing more age-appropriate reading material in the future."

No doubt Dan grimaced at that as he hastily moved to relinquish all parental responsibility for the subject. "Yes, that's all you. Godspeed."

"Coward," Emma shot back. There was some playful giggling which Kallen refused to contemplate. "Anyway, I'm a little concerned about one of the themes of this story."

Dan snorted. "Which one? The fact that our daughter seems undecided on imperialism?"

_What? That's not true! I mean, sure, I would have put up with it if Lelouch… He would have been a good… I need a drink._

"Well, there is that–"

"Or that she firmly believes in the ends justifying the means? The religious metaphors clashing with her obvious atheism?"

"Dan, when was the last time we went to church?"

A pregnant silence fell.

"Probably shortly after Hermione destroyed my motorcycle. I'm still waiting for her to walk on water."

It took Kallen a few moments to understand the reference, but she giggled along with Emma once she had.

"That reminds me, I promised her a cake for services rendered and never followed through."

Kallen quickly pretended not to hear anything and slipped off to the kitchen. When she returned with her ill-gotten gains, her parents were no longer engaged any amorous activities.

"No, I meant the masks and lies. The double identities. And that this Kallen Stadtfeld slash Kōzuki appears to be a self-insert. She accidentally wrote her own name instead a few times."

A rather emphatic, "Fuck," escaped Kallen's lips. Never one to panic, she started contemplating how she could talk her way out of this disaster.

A rather solemn Dan said, "You don't suppose she's trying to pretend to be someone she's not, do you? To fit in, perhaps?"

"I don't know. I know we had a hard time when we were her age, and she's more gifted than both of us combined. Have you heard anything about bullying?"

Dan spent a few moments in thought. "No. I doubt she identifies enough with the students at her school to even care if they were harassing her."

A sigh, and then Emma said, "Well, that's something."

"Do you think – I mean, what if – could her _gifts_ be… Is there something she hasn't told us? Does she experience time twice as fast or something? Is she a not-quite-teenager already? That would explain a lot."

_Ooh, good save, Dad! I think I'll appropriate that idea, make a few changes, and blame magic for all of my oddities._

Silence fell onto the room. Kallen assumed her parents had gone back to reading, so she quietly inched away with her unauthorised second pudding. She did hear one last parting remark, however.

"This is _very_ good."

Emma agreed. "We're going to need to hire a lawyer for her."

With an absolutely dazzling smile, never mind her awkward front teeth and what awaited her the next morning, Kallen snuck back upstairs.

* * *

Breakfast in the morning came with all of Kallen's favourites up to and including double chocolate chip muffins that her dentist parents considered the very height of evil.

She wasn't fooled. This was either an attempt to get her talking or, she hoped, reassurance that her parents would love her no matter what she told them. In all honesty, if she hadn't already decided last night to bite the bullet, this would have sent her into a hasty retreat.

"Should I bring the dictionary down from the library?" To her parents confused expressions, Kallen added, "You seem to have forgotten the meaning of subtlety." She sighed. "I overheard you last night. Ask whatever you want."

Despite the guilt and embarrassment that flashed over her face, Emma quickly recovered. "You're father and I are…curious more than anything. But it's not so much a matter of us having questions as concerns. We wanted to reassure you that you can come to us with anything troubling you."

"I know, but it's…hard." Kallen reached out and grabbed one of the chocolate muffins. The first bite was always the sweetest. "I'm not troubled, and I risk much for little gain by opening up. Not that I have much choice now."

Emma reached across the table and stole one of Kallen's hands. Dan did the same on her other side, forcing her to drop her delicious confectionery. "Hermione, no matter what, your mother and I love you."

While she doubted that, Kallen made no mention of it. She had no right to judge what was and was not unconditional love after the absolute disaster that was her relationship with her first mother.

"I have…dreams," Kallen said. "Or rather I did. I don't know if they were real, or visions, or something else. They felt real, at least." She nodded toward the drafts of her novel sitting atop a counter nearby. "My story isn't very interesting compared to Lelouch's, so I only wrote down the parts where he intersected with my dream life. With a few artistic liberties."

Kallen hated how easily the lies slipped off her tongue. She'd always been a good actress, but it shouldn't be this easy to lie to her parents.

"I stopped having the dreams about three years after the epilogue. I died." And Kallen would absolutely not be confessing exactly what she'd been doing at the time. "Some bastard wanted C.C.'s code, and I just happened to be in the way."

The shock visibly coursing through Dan and Emma prevented them from chiding Kallen for her language. Dan snapped out of his stupor first and leapt to gather Kallen in his arms.

"Oh, my dear, sweet, little girl. I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

Emma joined the hug. "I wish you'd have told us sooner. We may have been able to help."

Burning, guilty tears gathered at the corners of Kallen's eyes. She had no right to take comfort in this, but no part of her resisted indulging. "You're really okay with this? I think I've spent more time as Kallen than Hermione."

"Of course we are," Dan said. His tone left no doubt as to his sincerity. "You're our daughter, and you'll always be our daughter. Just please no relationships until you're physically older."

Kallen laughed weakly. "No promises, Dad. Did you read my dedication page?"

It clicked immediately. "You're looking for that _boy_."

And Emma immediately swatted Dan upside the head. "What your father meant to say is we would love to get to know the real Lelouch."

"If he really exists," Kallen whispered. Her words caused a resurgence in the group hug, but it gave her no comfort. C.C. might be here, but Lelouch? She didn't want to get her hopes up.

* * *

"You know, you don't have to read all your fan mail. If you're only looking for other Dreamers" – the term the family had settled on for those from Kallen's world – "your father and I can at least help you sort out the definite nos."

There _was_ a lot of it, and Kallen knew she had little more than a fool's hope, but she pressed on nonetheless. "I know, Mum. I just prefer to do this myself." The kitchen had seen better days, though. She'd made a horrible mess of it in the process. Envelopes lay strewn about everywhere with letters only loosely associated with their origin.

"So long as you're enjoying yourself, I suppose."

"I am," Kallen insisted. She did actually enjoy the praise. It was nice to have something to be proud of beyond her ability to leave a swath of destruction in her wake. The hate mail she could do without, but those were few and far between.

Kallen opened the next letter and immediately froze. Emma noticed right away and asked, "What is it?"

"Britannian English." Kallen swept everything else aside, clutched the envelope close, and placed the letter itself flat onto the table. "This is Britannian English." _It worked! It actually worked!_

Emma glanced at the text. "I'll take your word for it. So there _are_ other Dreamers. Who is it from?"

The very first line read, 'Thank you for not revealing that you had to nurse me through a Refrain overdose.'

"Lelouch," Kallen whispered. "You're alive. It's Lelouch! He's alive! He's here!" Her gaze turned to the envelope and checked the return address. "Surrey. That's not even an hour's drive from here."

"A little over, actually," came Emma's correction. "But I'm happy for you. I'm sure your father will get over you having a boyfriend before your teens."

A fierce blush erupted from Kallen's cheeks all the way down her neck. "Mum!"

"Fiancé then? I don't think your father could handle husband."

"We were never engaged, let alone married! Honestly! We never even dated."

"Yes, yes. I read your book, you know. But there were moments were you looked into his eyes and time stood still. Slight touches which felt like fire. Those lips–"

"Mum!" If this was what a happy, stable family was like, perhaps Kallen had been better off with her dysfunctional one. "Please stop. I'm not nearly old enough to…appreciate–"

Emma's smirk landed one last blow.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have a dear friend's letter to read."

Kallen quickly skipped over the first line and moved on to the actual letter itself.

'Kallen, I'm sure I have a slap at best in my future–"

_Oh, at the very least, you git._ There might also be some kissing involved, but there would definitely be slapping.

"–but I eagerly anticipate our reunion nonetheless. Although I wish things had been different, I don't regret my actions nor my punishment. The world needed a villain, and there was no one better suited for the role.

'That said, after the last six years here, I feel I've earned the right to pursue my own happiness. We need to talk. I suspect we both have a lot to say to each other that should have been said a long time ago.'

A giddy smile grew on Kallen's face as she read, one she quickly banished the moment she saw Emma's knowing look. And on second thought, what was that about having 'earned the right to pursue his own happiness'? That couldn't be good. She read on.

'Now to less pleasant affairs. I have no right to ask this of you, and I know you must be comfortable in your new life, but I need my Q1 to return to my service.'

Kallen unconsciously sat a little straighter. She'd grown soft in these times of peace, but it wouldn't take her long to get back up to speed.

'In short, and I will explain in more detail, I appear to be or have been a prophesied child destined to destroy an evil wizard. Magic is real here but secret and hereditary. Think Merlin. Wands and incantations. Rituals. It's all very Westernly occult. Unfortunately, I've lost my geass and have yet to gain any mastery over my own magic.'

_Magic is hereditary?_ "Mum? Are you sure you or Dad aren't magical?"

"Quite sure. Why do you ask?"

"Lelouch says magic is hereditary. Hmm… Maybe we have magical ancestors?"

Emma shrugged. "So His Majesty is magical as well? I hope he can teach you not to set things on fire that aren't supposed to be."

"One time!" Kallen protested. She then proceeded to ignore her mother and returned to Lelouch's letter.

'Since my parents in this world died, I've been living with relatives who… Well, let me put it simply. We've killed thousands for far lesser crimes than them. Unfortunately, between their abuse–"

"What! How dare they!" Kallen ignored Emma's enquiries and continued reading.

'–between their abuse, my diminished stature, and my mysterious watcher, I've not been able to effect my escape. I need your help as an unknown outside element. I need you to kill Petunia and Vernon Dursley. I trust your assassination skills have grown a little less conspicuous since Suzaku. And that time in the shower.

'…

'Please don't get caught.'

Kallen silently promised to extract her revenge for this affront to her dignity.

'Also, please don't contact me. It would not end well. My gaoler has the ability to erase memories and magically compel others. I've yet to determine how to recover lost memories, if such is even possible, but compulsions break when too heavily strained. I've detailed my experiences with them below. I don't know if it's possible to read minds, but it wouldn't surprise me. This world's Japanese is nearly the same as ours, so try to think exclusively in Britannian English as a basic security measure.

'Once this matter is taken care of, I'll contact you again to update you on the situation. I have reasons to believe my current environment is unique. With the elder Dursleys gone, my circumstances should significantly improve. If not, then we'll have to take greater risks.

'Lelouch.

'P.S. Here are a list of upcoming dates and times for which I _will_ have an unshakable alibi. I've included a copy of all my records, escape ideas, and how they failed. Once you read everything, I'm sure you'll understand what my alibis will be. Please don't rush. If you must, think of it as revenge for how long it took me to rescue you.'

Kallen set aside Lelouch's actual letter and hesitantly began to read the other documents he'd enclosed. The first was a simple catalogue of everything he knew about magic and the magical world. The second laid out everything he knew about the Dursley family. The third, however, painted a dark picture of abuse and the desperate attempts of a man to escape. It only got worse the longer she read.

"Hermione," Emma said, worry pervasive in her tone, "you're pale. What did he write?"

"He – he – oh, Mum, he tried to kill himself."

"Not in the dream, you mean?"

Kallen nodded as she fought back tears. "He's being horribly abused by his aunt and uncle, and someone is erasing memories and enchanting people to keep him with them. He's tried everything to get away. They keep him so malnourished, exhausted, and locked up that he can't even just kill them."

That visibly set off every warning bell in Emma's mind, and Kallen cursed herself for the slip. Now she needed to convince her parents to aid and abet two counts of assassination.

"Perhaps we could discuss alternatives before leaping straight to murder."

"Mum, this is _enemy action_. It would be the height of folly to reveal our hand without so much as knowing who our enemy is. Our only protection is our anonymity. As soon as we become associated with Lelouch, we become vulnerable. They could make me _forget him_. I _cannot_ risk that. Nor can I do nothing. I've turned my back on him _three times_. That's three times too many. No more!"

Emma's horrified look hurt. It really did. "You… I don't think I ever fully processed that you were a soldier." Perhaps worse was the sorrow in her voice.

Even so, Kallen refused to budge on the matter. "I'm a knight." The distinction meant far more to her and those from her world than it did to her mother, but it had to be made. "And my liege needs me."

"I'm not saying no," Emma said, a hollow placation. "But we _will_ talk about this first."

"Well of course we will. I would appreciate your critiques on whatever plan I decide upon."

And so the battle of wills commenced.

* * *

**A/N:** And that's the end of my backlog. I don't know if or when I'll write more, but this plot bunny needed to get out of my head. If someone wants to run with the idea, feel free. Just send me a link.

* * *

Behold! A shameless self-promotion! I have a Patrreon account under the username Forthwith if you want to support my writing in general.


	3. Y0S3 - First Foray

**A/N:** Sadly, I own neither _Code Geass_ nor _Harry Potter_.

* * *

Year Zero  
Stage 03 - First Foray

Dan arrived home from work and immediately felt the tension in the air. His normally loving and affectionate daughter he found first. She uttered a gruff, "Welcome home," but made no move to rise for a hug or kiss. Instead, she continued to tinker with a pile of electronics. Over the course of a single day, she seemed to have acquired enough bits and pieces to drown in.

"What are you making?"

"Nothing."

Dan arched his eyebrows at the oddly terse response. Something was up. "What are you up to, then?"

"Making sure I know what I'm doing in this world."

_Right… _Figuring he would have better odds with his wife, Dan wished his daughter good luck and moved further into the house. He found Emma soon enough poring over a sprawling mess of paper in the disaster zone their kitchen had become. Curious, he exchanged a welcome home kiss and read over her shoulder. "What is this?" Some of it he could read, but some looked like complete gibberish.

"A letter from His Majesty."

"He exists?" Although Hermione would be hard pressed to get him to admit it to her, Dan had hoped as such. She very much needed someone to connect with outside the family, and her singular circumstances made that rather difficult.

Oddly enough, Emma snorted. "He does."

_Okay…_ "And what are you doing?"

"Trying and mostly failing to translate the part of his letter Dame Stadtfeld or whatever refused to. There are Germanic and Latin influences, but this Britannian English seems to have more in common with Welsh."

Dan sighed and mentally prepared himself to play advocate for the boy he honestly expected to be his son-in-law _many_ years before he was ready to give his daughter away. "Alright, what's going on? You and Hermione are both behaving uncouthly today."

A sniffle escaped Emma as she gnawed on her lip and searched for words. Dan pulled up a chair beside her. He took her hand in his own and softly asked, "Hey. What's wrong, love?"

"Oh, Dan. It's – this is just such a bad situation. It really hit me today that all of that dream stuff really happened for Hermione. Lelouch is in another situation like at the beginning of his second rebellion, and our daughter is planning how to murder everyone involved as we speak."

Dan slumped heavily into the back of his chair. "That's… Wow." He opened his mouth, but he couldn't think of anything to say. On his second try, he only managed, "I wasn't expecting that."

Saying nothing, Emma returned to staring at the unpronounceable string of letters on the table. Her heart clearly wasn't in it anymore, but anything to keep her mind occupied, Dan supposed. He glanced at the translated pile.

"May I?"

Emma hesitated a moment before reluctantly shoving the pile an inch in Dan's direction. She placed her forehead in her hands and leaned onto the table. "It's bad."

_Well, forewarned is forearmed._ Dan picked up the pile and read.

By the time he finished, Dan was sorely tempted to reach for a drink. He could hardly blame Hermione for wanting to murder these Dursley people. Especially so, now that he thought of it, considering the target of this systematic abuse was the man she loved. He doubted he would be any more level-headed if it were her or Emma.

"You two argued?"

Emma nodded silently into her hands.

"Before or after you read this nightmare?"

"Before," Emma admitted. "Not that it changes things."

It didn't, but context mattered. "Right then. I'll go smooth things over, and then you two can kiss and make up." Dan sounded more confident than he felt, but nothing good would come of showing doubt.

Hermione hadn't moved. She did appear much further along in her project, however, judging by the tangled mess of wires and capacitors and, well, Dan didn't know what most of the parts were. A small frown emerged on his face. He took pride in his daughter the polymath, of course, but the feeling soured when he thought of how and why she'd obtained those skills.

Dan sat down beside Hermione. Careful not to sound judgemental, he asked, "So what are you actually making?"

Busy hands paused for a moment before returning to their task. Hermione replied, "A remote detonator."

_About what I expected, I suppose._ "Your fingerprints are all over it."

This time Hermione actually stopped and turned to look suspiciously at Dan. "I said I was only making sure electronics work the way I expect, didn't I?"

"Ah. Fair point. How were you intending to…"

Hermione knew exactly what Dan meant. "Plant the bomb while one of them is at the grocer's and then wait until date night. Probably store it in my knapsack and 'accidentally' kick a ball underneath their car. Just another kid doing what children do."

"How would you get the incendiaries?"

A scoff met the question. "The department store will meet all my needs without any awkward questions."

"Remind me why we send you to school again?"

"Because you and Mum are too busy to homeschool me yourselves and too proud to dip into my bank account and retire."

Dan cringed inwardly at the misstep. They'd been through that argument before when it became clear that Hermione's attempt to find other Dreamers would have the pleasant but unintended side effect of making her _very_ comfortably wealthy. Needless to say, they disagreed on how that income should be spent.

"Look," Hermione sighed. "I appreciate the subtler approach, but I'm not blind. Say what you want to say."

"Very well. I completely understand your feelings, but I think there are a few approaches we should try before you attempt a more extreme solution." As Hermione didn't immediately leap to bite his head off, Dan pushed on. "My first instinct would be to involve the press. Once newspapers go out, I don't see how it could be kept quiet anymore."

Hermione opened her mouth.

"_However_, I can see how gathering the required evidence would be dangerous for us and difficult at best for Lelouch."

A nod. "As I told Mum, our anonymity is our only protection."

Dan nodded back. "I agree. I read what Lelouch wrote about the magical world. If we could find our way there, perhaps we could assess the political climate and then reevaluate."

A thoughtful expression emerged on Hermione's face. "It was at war," she rightfully pointed out.

"True, but it's been years, and the leader of the rebels went after Lelouch and failed spectacularly. Don't you suppose it'd be over by now?"

After a few moments to consider the matter, Hermione asked, "How do you propose we find this secret society?"

"Well, the keyword there is secret."

* * *

Just outside Heathrow Airport, Kallen centred herself as she got into character. Today, she would be Inoue Hina, a young Japanese witch lost in London. She had nothing to do with whatever local politics existed. She was just visiting distant family with her mother. She had clothes and a stylish bag appropriate to her real home, she had natural black hair, and this was her first time in the country.

_Alright._ Kallen spared one last glance at her father watching over her from a distance. Her mother waited at home for a phone call to let them know where she ended up. Depending on the distance, either her father would fly to pick her up or her mother would come collect them both. _Let's do this._

In what little experience she had, accidental magic usually did _something_ related to what Kallen actually wanted – often destructively. She quickly identified a highly visible but somewhat isolated sculpture and then concentrated on levitating it. Frustration and anger were key, so she focused on how the Dursleys treated Lelouch and worked herself up into a rage. Out of the corner of her key, she noticed a mother somewhat roughly handle her child.

That finally set Kallen's magic off. The poor, probably undeserving woman found herself suspended in the air away from her son. Hundreds stopped to stare, to _witness_.

Loud cracks broke the relative silence and broke Kallen from her indignant fury. Looking around, she found a number of robed men and women who looked very out of place.

_Well. That was easy. Now I just need to not get memory wiped._

Kallen fought down the sense of emotional whiplash as she now focused on her memory of Lelouch's death. Drowning herself in grief, she managed to bring tears to her eyes. Selling the act, she ran up to one of the robed men and babbled her story at him in rapid Japanese. When he raised his wand, barely paying her any attention, she pretended to panic and shouted, "Witch! Witch! I witch!"

"Ah," the man said. "That would make you the young witch responsible for this mess, then. Where are your parents?"

Kallen stared at him with a look of intense concentration as though she had a hard time understanding him. He asked the question again, this time slower, and she nodded her understanding. After a few false starts, she said, "Shop?"

"Shopping?" the man asked. When he received a nod, he continued, "They went shopping in Diagon Alley?"

Kallen nodded more furiously this time and made a show of wiping her nose on her sleeve. The man, surprisingly enough, kindly spelled the mucus away.

"What's your name?"

"Hi – Hina."

"Alright, Hina, I'll apparate you there as soon as we're done here. Can you be patient for me?"

Kallen waited a few seconds as she pretended to parse the man's words before nodding. Once he turned away, she allowed herself a small smirk of victory.

Sure enough, a few minutes later after the entire crowd had involuntarily lost all memory of this spectacle – Dan included, unfortunately – the robed man grabbed Kallen by the arm. He warned her they were about to apparate and counted down from three. When he reached one, reality broke. One moment they were at Heathrow Airport. The next, it felt like they were squeezed through a very tight rubber tube. But before she could even process that strange, uncomfortable feeling, it ended.

Sprawling out before Kallen's eyes was the strangest place she'd ever seen. Along the cobblestone street rose buildings of all shapes and sizes, some of which constituted an architect's worst nightmare. Most had a very eighteenth century feel about them; some were older, but none newer.

"Do you see your parents anywhere, Hina?"

With a shake of her head, Kallen said, "I find. Thank you," and bolted off before the man could protest. She ran through the thick crowd, slipping between narrow gaps and legs, to quickly disappear with the aid of her small stature. After a few minutes of running, she felt confident she'd lost the man and slowed down. She found a shady corner and slipped off to change clothes and restyle her hair. Hopefully that would be enough to remain unnoticed and dodge any consequences while she searched for a way out of here.

Abandoning her bag and old clothes, Kallen set out into Diagon Alley to have a proper look around. There were shops selling robes of all kinds, shops selling sweets and all manner of delicious looking items Kallen knew her parents would disapprove of, shelves filled end to end with books, barrels of the most disgusting things imaginable from slimy skins to eyes of newt, bins overflowing with quills of all things, a veritable parliament of owls.

Most importantly of all, peace reigned. Kallen slipped inside a bookshop and poked around until she found a text on recent history. The forces of evil had lost, it seemed, when their leader died trying to kill Lelouch. So satisfied that this world would be safe for her parents, she returned to exploring the alley.

Eventually, she found her way out back into London of all places barely a few minutes' walk from the Thames.

* * *

"Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more."

Kallen rolled her eyes and pulled her parents into the Leaky Cauldron. A rather dingy pub, it served as the entrance to Diagon Alley. To the barkeep, Emma said, "Excuse me, we're new to the country. Could you please show us how to enter Diagon Alley?"

Upon her exit days before, Kallen had learnt that one needed a wand to enter or leave Diagon Alley. The fakes her parents had to ward off any unwanted attention would not do.

"Of course," the barkeep said. He then showed them to the entrance and explained how to tap the brick wall with a wand to open the passage.

Dan and Emma managed to hide most of their surprise when an entire thriving community somehow living in the middle of London unnoticed revealed itself to them. Once they got through, however, their curiosity overtook them. They quickly turned into tourists, stopping to investigate everything that moved and much of what didn't.

Kallen herself resisted, although only barely. She had her priorities straight. "Mum, Dad, bank first. We need local currency." She'd seen gold, silver, and bronze coins and _only_ such coins trading hands on her last visit. If they couldn't exchange pounds for coinage, then that ended her parents' 'let's not murder the people clearly deserving death' plan then and there. She _would not_ approach whatever magical law enforcement existed without a magical disguise lest a description of her appearance make its way back to Lelouch's keeper.

Reluctantly, Dan and Emma capitulated. The three of them asked around for directions and soon arrived at Gringotts Wizarding Bank.

It was run by goblins.

Actual real life goblins.

Kallen tried not to stare.

The trio were in an out remarkably quickly, now a bag of galleons, sickles, and knuts heavier. The goblin in charge of currency exchange had been a rather surly creature, but Kallen supposed everyone was allowed bad days and paid the poor customer service no mind. So equipped, they set out into the alley.

"Dan, look! It's a bag of holding!"

"Hmm…" As a first instinct, Dan stuck his entire arm up to his shoulder in the little bag. He examined it as he withdrew it to find it still in proper working condition. "Brilliant!"

A dozen multicoloured spheres floated around Dan's head doing who knew what to him. "Ioun stones, Emma!"

They double high-fived each other with matching grins.

Kallen shook her head. "My parents are such children." She quietly purchased a bag of holding while they played in the enchanted items shop. Practicality came first. She affixed it to a loop on the waist of her jeans and poured her money inside of it

The apothecary next door had potions for every occasion from the cure to the common cold to a nasty looking concoction that promised to regrow entire bones. Unsurprisingly, hangover potions filled an entire shelf all on their own.

"Hmm, this sounds promising." Kallen entered the section dedicated to personal care. "Acne cure. Boil cure. Moisturiser. Hair regrowth. Hair tamer." She took one such bottle of Sleekeazy's with the thought of finally getting her unreasonably bushy hair to cooperate. "Nail potion. Ooh, now what have we here? Ageing potion? Yes please." An entire row of those vials disappeared from the shelf.

As Kallen paid for her potions, she asked the shop assistant, "Is there a potion to completely change your appearance? Hair and shape and everything?"

The shop assistant added a flask of sludge he called polyjuice to the receipt. It cost a pretty penny, but Kallen had the coin for it. Perhaps it would be cheaper to brew more herself in the future when her needs were less immediate.

Kallen collected her parents and took them to buy robes for all three of them to better blend in on any future visits. After that, they made a stop at the bookshop and stocked up. The history and law books would need to be read first and quickly, but the introductory book for muggleborn by a muggleborn, whatever that meant, the shop assistant recommended looked promising. She pulled a few potions texts as well in anticipation of considerable amounts of brewing in her near future.

Perhaps the most important tome they bought, however, covered mind magic. She would study that religiously before she made any move to rescue Lelouch.

And so, after a long day out, the entire family headed home.

* * *

Emma tapped on the ajar door to her daughter's room as a brief warning before entering. To her surprise, instead of the adorable little girl she expected, she found a gorgeous woman in robes examining herself in the mirror.

"Who–"

"It's me, Mum. Ageing potion."

Well, that explained half of this situation. "What are you doing?"

Hermione sighed. "I just wanted a sneak preview. Sorry I borrowed your robes without asking, but this was sort of an impulse thing, and I didn't fancy walking around in blankets for hours."

"No, that's okay," Emma said. She had picked up on the melancholic tone, however. She walked up beside her daughter, standing side by side in the mirror, and asked, "You're disappointed?"

The resemblance between the two women came with the most passing of glances. From the hair to the eyes to the nose and the curves, if Emma didn't know better, she would have sworn the woman next to her was her prettier sister who'd won the genetic lottery. How much of that was natural and how much was magic?

"It's…different." Hermione had obviously noticed the similarities as well.

With a light chuckle, Emma said, "You don't have to spare my feelings. What is it you're thinking?"

Even so assured, Hermione still hesitated. Emma had to prod her a few more times to get her talking. "It's silly. I just, well, I've never thought of myself as vain, but I used to be a bloody goddess without any effort."

"Language, princess."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I guess I'm just worried. Lelouch isn't… He's… I don't know if you have a word for it. Girls threw themselves at him, but he doesn't really notice women unless he's already close to them. I have no idea what he's…"

Having read Hermione's book several times over, Emma understood the thrust of Hermione's meaning. "You're worried he'll love you but won't be _in love_ with you anymore."

"Yeah…"

_And here I thought I wouldn't have to deal with this aspect of motherhood._ Emma shifted behind Hermione and gently tilted her daughter's head up to look back into the mirror. "Tell me what you see."

"A woman with absolutely no distinguishing traits, good or bad. I think the term here is 'a plain Jane'?"

Emma arched her eyebrows. "I don't think my ego could survive a trip to the Dream if this is your standard for average." That got a laugh out of her daughter. "You do realise that green hair isn't natural here, yes?"

"C.C. has nothing to do with this."

"That…was not actually what I was getting at." But in hindsight, it should have been something Emma thought of. The immortal witch had been Hermione's only real competition for Lelouch's affections. "I only meant that you may have some unrealistic standards now that you're outside the Dream."

"I suppose."

"Trust me, princess, you're gorgeous. You're not going to get any reprieve from male attention."

Hermione laughed at that. "Maybe you're right." A slow turn let her examine herself from every angle in the mirror. She hopped once, then twice. "Damn. Magical support is _nice_."

"I know, right?"

Mother and daughter shared a smirk as the latter pinched the fat around her arm. "I'm going to need to start exercising again. I've spent too much time sitting on my ar… I don't know this language well enough yet to recover from that."

It was Emma's turn to laugh. She ignored the coarse language and said, "You know, magic seems to lend itself well to bookworms. Squishy wizards and all that."

"True, but squishy wizards are, by definition, squishy. If I can get in close with a shunpo or something…"

Hermione trailed off in thought, but her intended application came across clearly. Far worse, however, Emma felt unable to say anything against it. The magical world had been at war, and if the history books they'd read had any degree of accuracy, the ability to defend oneself might very well prove paramount.

But on the topic, Emma finally addressed the reason she'd come upstairs in the first place. "Hermione, are we okay? I don't want anything to fester between us." She'd read how disastrously wrong that had gone with her daughter's other family.

Hermione's face softened almost immediately. "Yes, Mum. We disagree still, I'm sure, and I think we're wasting time with a needless risk, but our argument became a little too intense. I'm sorry for that. I have a temper. I know it. I'm trying to work on it. It's gotten me into trouble in the past, and I guess it did again."

"Apology accepted." Emma hugged her daughter. "I do still disagree, but I'm sorry too."

Once they'd finished making up – for sure this time – Emma asked, "When do you want to head to the Ministry of Magic to file the report?"

"Soon," Hermione replied. "But I want a wand first."

* * *

Asking around Diagon Alley, it rapidly became apparent that if one wanted the best wand and had the coin for it, then Ollivander's was the one and only place to go. As soon as Kallen stepped inside, it became apparent that wands were the _only_ thing sold here. A mountain of shelves sprawled upwards filled with nothing but boxes of wands.

An old man soon emerged from the gloom of the shop, his wide, pale eyes alight with interest. Kallen felt the telltale sign of a legilimency probe and broke eye contact before the man could discover anything. He made no mention of his attempt nor pushed the matter further to a point she couldn't defend against. Instead, he simply welcomed her into his shop and introduced himself as Garrick Ollivander.

Now glad that she'd insisted on doing this aged up and alone, Kallen put on a thick Japanese accent and said, "I'm in need of a new wand, and I heard this is the best place in the country to buy one."

"You heard correctly, then, Miss…"

"Inoue Naomi." If anyone had heard of an Inoue Hina running around the market, hopefully the connection would help sell Kallen's cover.

"Miss Naomi–"

"Ah, pardon. For the English, it is Noami Inoue, no?"

Ollivander nodded. "Indeed, Miss Inoue, indeed. Now a new wand, is it? Do you have your old one with you? No? Well, tell me what it was made of."

"Sakura to kami no yuki-onna." Kallen had done her research in advance. "Ah, that is–"

With a dismissive wave of his hand, Ollivander said, "No need. I understood. You attended Mahoutokoro?"

Kallen nodded.

"I imagine your wand brought you no small amount of attention. A rare wood, cherry. Makes for very strange wands. Often very lethal as well. But paired with an ice woman's hair… Yes…"

As Ollivander descended into mumbles about his art, Kallen cleared her throat.

"Ah. My apologies. An unfortunate symptom of old age and a love of the craft, I'm afraid. Now then, which is your wand hand?"

While she was mostly ambidextrous, Kallen raised her right. As soon as she had, a tape measure floated out of nowhere and began measuring her. She'd been subjected to a similar treatment when buying robes, so she paid it no mind. Meanwhile, Ollivander disappeared into the dark recesses of his shop. He returned with a dozen boxes.

"Now then, let's start with a few cherry wands and go from there." He opened one box and passed over a lovely light-brown wand. "Eleven and one-quarter inches, unicorn hair. Give it a flick."

Kallen did so. A bolt of red light surged forth from the tip and crashed into a shelf. The wood exploded and sent splinters everywhere. Ollivander, however, was quick on the draw and shielded them both. With another flick of his own wand, he set the shelves to rights with nothing seemingly worse for the wear.

"Destructive, certainly, but perhaps not." Ollivander plucked the wand from Kallen's hand and replaced it with another.

It was, Kallen swore, over a hundred wands later after enduring all manner of bizarre results when she felt _something_. It wasn't quite right, more a sense of longing for what might have been, a sickening of the heart for what was lost. She swallowed and gnawed on her lip as she hesitantly set the wand aside. It sorely tempted her to buy it regardless of its fit, but no. She couldn't.

Ollivander said nothing but set the wand's box aside.

Much later, at long last, Kallen _knew_ the wand in her hand was _hers_. She felt the connection, the surge of power, the bond between witch and wand.

Ollivander watched with a concerned expression.

"What's wrong?"

"Ten and a three-quarter inches, supple cherry wood and dragon heartstring. Precise and _deadly_. There are few combinations I am more loath to sell. I oft carve them _short_ to require more deliberate movements from their wielder, for such should never be paired with one lacking self-control or strength of mind."

Kallen said nothing as she gazed down upon her wand and ran a finger along its full length. She'd never once hurt someone she'd not intended to, not physically, at least, but she understood the warning.

"You also responded well to holly wands which are often suited to those who need help overcoming a naturally temperamental or impetuous disposition. You might see my concern."

With a solemn nod, Kallen vowed, "No one not deserving will ever find themself upon the wrong end of my wand."

"See that it is so. Now about the _other wand_–"

"No." Kallen made no mystery of her decision. "It is not my wand. Sell it to another."

"Very well. Seven galleons, then."

Kallen paid as requested and went on her way, ever feeling Ollivander's eyes on her back until she turned the corner and vanished into the alley. She picked up a beginner's charms text and then set off to rejoin her parents in London proper. By the time she got home, she was levitating her new book around for the fun of it to her parents' intense interest. Sure, the spell drained her fairly quickly for a short while, but that likely explained why witches and wizards didn't begin their magical education until age eleven.

* * *

On the drive to London to visit the Ministry of Magic, Kallen finally finished brushing up on the magical world's legal system. It made for very dry reading, but it had to be done. She didn't need to know _everything_, not even nearly. In fact, she'd mostly skimmed through the thirty thousand pages of the deceptively long book more to familiarise herself with the section titles than their contents. Who honestly cared about the required thickness of copper cauldrons or the legal process to register as a dragon handler?

Well, actually, dragons did sound rather exciting.

Regardless, Kallen did need to avoid any obvious blunders. Her introductory book for muggleborn – apparently the term for those born to nonmagical parents – had covered many of the important legal differences between the magical and mundane world, but it didn't address everything. "Mum, Dad. Have you been browsing your copy of _Magical Law_?"

They had.

"Do you get the sense that it's highly discriminatory against, well, basically everyone not human?"

Emma shifted uncomfortably in her seat but said, "Surely there must be a reason. I mean, what if vampires are the monsters literature presents them as?"

Kallen quirked an eyebrow before realising that this world – or at least her parents – hadn't fully entered the sexy vampire phase yet. "Perhaps," she allowed. "Anyway, this is our one chance to not deliver justice to monsters. If it doesn't work, it means those responsible for Lelouch's suffering have connections in high places. Worse, we alert them to the fact that someone magical has taken an interest in him, which will make everything hereafter more difficult. Are you sure you want to use this one and only opportunity this way?"

A brief pair of looks were exchanged. "We are," Dan said, eliciting a long sigh from Kallen. "Have faith, princess. This will work."

"If you say so." Glancing at the pile of books next to her, Kallen added, "Just have the car full of petrol and ready for a speedy escape."

This entire operation would blow up in their faces. Kallen knew an unnecessary risk when she saw one. Between the apparent fame Lelouch had as the 'Boy-Who-Lived' – _ridiculous moniker_ – who allegedly defeated 'You-Know-Who' and everyone's unconcern with his disappearance, someone in a position of power must be responsible for his captivity. She only hoped she could remove any tracking spells that she got tagged with on her way out. If she couldn't, then this olive branch to her parents might cost her everything.

Dan found a place to park near the visitor's entrance to the Ministry of Magic. Once stationary, Kallen hung a pair of blouses in the windows and threw a blanket at the rear glass for privacy. She stripped off her own clothes and let a loose pair of cheap robes dangle around her. Lastly, she withdrew a single dose of polyjuice from her bag and a hair from a random salon customer in London.

"Are you sure that's safe to drink?" Emma's nose wrinkled at just the smell permeating the vehicle.

"No," Kallen said, "but it's not like I have a better option." She pinched her own nose closed and downed the entire sludge as quickly as possible. Once she stopped gagging, she firmly stated, "Vile. Absolutely vile."

Before anything more could be said, Kallen's skin began to boil. It bubbled and roiled, and she squeezed her eyes shut and wished it would just stop. Every bit of her felt like a live eel had made its nest nearby and was busy defending its territory. It was a good job she'd not been standing as her vision swam and all sense of balance left her.

Finally, it was done. Kallen moaned as she rose to examine herself in the mirror. Dan adjusted it to assist. "Well, it worked," she remarked dryly.

"Quite," Emma added. She looked rather green.

"You ready, princess? You have an hour to get in and get out."

Kallen nodded, withdrew all of the pertinent information Lelouch had sent her from her bag, and set out. She spent a precious minute fully adjusting to the difference in height and body type, but better that than be unprepared for a fight. With a few casual flicks of her wand, she verified that it still worked properly for her. Her magic felt a little…stiff, she supposed the word was, but it would do for when she returned. If this came down to a magical duel before then, she was doomed from the outset regardless.

Finding the visitor's entrance to the ministry was easy. Everyone without magic moved away from the red telephone box as though walking in a straight line. That left a suspicious dead zone on the busy London pavement that no one else seemed to notice.

Once inside the box, Kallen dialled MAGIC and announced her business as reporting a crime. She received directions to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in return as well as a visitor's badge proclaiming her a 'complainer'.

_Lovely._

The box descended slowly as though it were a lift. The entrance to the ministry of magic went further than Kallen could see in one direction, an endless row of fireplaces. People appeared from and disappeared into them in flashes of green. The crowd below must have contained _at least_ a thousand people going about their business. If this was just the _entrance_, then the entire building must be a city unto itself. It that regard, it reminded her of Britannia's Imperial Palace.

Not here to sightsee, as soon as the box completed its descent, she stepped out. She quickly enquired after instructions on how to leave the same way and then made her way to the lifts proper at the end of the hall.

As she waited for a ride, Kallen spared a glance at the Fountain of Magical Brethren. A group of golden statues, each, she presumed, larger than life, stood in the middle of a circular pool. The wizened and noble wizard stood tallest and highest. Below were a beautiful witch, a centaur, a goblin, and some tiny little thing with long pointed ears. The latter three looked adoringly up at the witch and wizard.

_Yeah, Mum. I'm sure this society isn't racist at all._ Kallen hummed in thought. _Speciesist?_

The lift arrived, and Kallen dismissed the thought. She rode down to level two to enter the DMLE. From there, a few quick questions brought her to Auror Headquarters. She approached the wizard manning the front desk.

"Excuse me. I'd like to report a case of child abuse."

The man nodded and spoke into a mirror. A few minutes later, another auror appeared. He introduced himself as Kingsley Shacklebolt and escorted Kallen into a cluttered open area divided into cubicles of all things. Not very magical, that, but what worked worked, she supposed. The hall buzzed with talk and laughter, and she soon found herself seated in Shacklebolt's 'office' across from his desk.

"Now then, Auror Baker said you had a child abuse case for us?" Kallen nodded, and he continued, "Very well. We'll need to investigate first before we can do anything, but we'll do what we can. What's the name and address?"

"Number Four Privet Drive in Little Whinging is the address. That's in Surrey." Kallen lowered her voice slightly in the hope of not being overheard. "The child is Harry Potter."

Kingsley's eyes widened in shock. "Harry Potter? I – excuse me, I think I need to take this higher. I'll be right back."

_No, no. Bad. Bad. Bad!_ Perfectly calmly, Kallen said, "Yes, of course, thank you."

The very moment Kingsley departed from his cubicle, Kallen placed the envelope of information she'd brought with her on his desk. She arranged things to make it very obvious and then made her way toward the exit. If anyone noticed her moving at a pace just slightly faster than an already fast walk, no one moved to stop her.

Up the lift and out the visitor's entrance, Kallen made her escape. As soon as she made it back to her parents, she shed all of her clothes and tossed them on the ground. "_Go_," she insisted. She wrapped a blanket around herself as makeshift clothing, and they were off.

Emma opened her mouth to speak, but Kallen cut her off. "Not yet." She turned to her books and picked up her wand. She first cast the general purpose counterspell. Then she ran through all of the specialised ways to dispel tracking and eavesdropping magic she'd researched. If that didn't do the job – and she certainly suspected the aurors kept some of the good spells to themselves – they were in trouble.

_Well, that's all I can do but hope for the best._ "Go ahead, Mum."

"Are you alright?"

Tentatively, Kallen nodded. She didn't feel any differently, at least, but magic could be insidious like that.

"Did it not go well?"

Kallen shook her head. "As soon as I mentioned Harry Potter, the auror immediately leapt to contact his boss. I left all the important information behind, but I wasn't going to stick around. _If_ they're not part of the conspiracy, they'll understand my skittishness when they read it." Well, they would understand it either way, but point made.

Dan and Emma exchanged a look.

"Hey! It's not paranoia. They really are out to get Lelouch."

No doubt rolling his eyes, Dan said, "I'm sure everything will work out."

* * *

It'd been a month. Kallen arrived home from school and, as always, immediately asked after the mail. Dan gave her a sad smile and shook his head. Oh, she had mail aplenty, but it was all fan mail, not a letter from Lelouch.

Enough was enough. Kallen headed upstairs, dropped off her bag, and grabbed a change of clothes. She then went to what had become the magic room. After tending to a few potions she had brewing, she downed a vial of ageing potion. With wand in hand, she left home with nothing more than a plain, "I'll be back soon," tossed over her shoulder.

Kallen raised her wand at the kerb. Soon enough, the Knight Bus appeared from nowhere. The purple, triple-decker monstrosity served as Magical Britain's only public transportation. She paid the conductor and asked to be taken to the centre of London. It didn't really matter where. All she needed was a telephone box with no association with her family.

A minute or two later after a harrowing ride at breakneck speeds across England, Kallen arrived at her destination. After a bit of wandering, she found what she needed and called the Dursleys' number.

One ring, two, and then a young boy with a worn, tired voice answered the phone. "Dursley residence. Hello?"

Kallen's voice caught in her throat. It was Lelouch. It had to be. It just had to.

Her lips parted to speak his name, his _real_ name, but she stopped herself before she could. In all likelihood, the enemy had a listening charm of some variety on the other end of the line. She couldn't. Not yet. She'd only called to discover if the Dursleys had been arrested. She'd already learnt more than she'd hoped. She could wait. She could be patient.

"Ah, hello," Kallen said, forcing herself to speak without the swell of emotion building up inside her. "Is Petunia Dursley in?"

"Yes. One moment."

Seconds later, a woman with a voice every bit as shrewish as its owner said, "Hello?"

"Ah, Mrs Dursley. I just wanted to call and share my appreciation for raising such a wonderful child. Your boy Dudley helped me the other day when I dropped my bag at the grocer's."

"He is such a kind boy, isn't he?" the shrew gushed. "Thank you for calling. I needed this after putting up with my nephew's behaviour all day."

Kallen grit her teeth but managed to bite out, "No problem. I'll let you get back to whatever you were doing. Say thank you again to your son for me, will you?"

"Of course."

Kallen hung up the line before slamming the phone back onto the receiver. _That bitch! I need to get Dad to wash my mouth out with soap after that. Hmph. Her nephew's behaviour, indeed. I'm going to enjoy killing her far more than I should._

And kill the Dursley's, Kallen would. She'd tried doing things her parents' way, and it hadn't worked. Now she would do things her way.

* * *

**A/N:** You guys, this was just a plot bunny. This response is a little ridiculous. Have another chapter. I'll be going back to work on the next chapter of KSCoB now, but I suppose I'll write more of this story when the mood strikes me.

* * *

Behold! A shameless self-promotion! I have a Patrreon account under the username Forthwith if you want to support my writing in general.


	4. Y0S4 - (Almost) Everyone Wins

**A/N:** Sadly, I own neither _Code Geass_ nor _Harry Potter_.

* * *

Year Zero  
Stage 04 - (Almost) Everyone Wins

From her vantage point nearly a kilometre away – disguised the mundane way, of course; no magic to trip alarms involved today – Kallen watched the elder Dursleys climb into their car together through a pair of binoculars. The most vindictive parts of her lamented the absence of their son, but perhaps this way was better. He was just a stupid kid with the unfortunate luck to be born to a pair of horrible role models. He didn't _need_ to die.

Kallen surveyed the street for innocent bystanders. A woman stood just outside the neighbouring house carrying a strange cat with large ears, but the only other problems were further off. No other cars were coming.

_Perfect._

She waited until the Dursleys had pulled out of the drive and moved a little ways off from the cat woman. With perhaps more eagerness than she should, she mouthed, "Sayonara," and then triggered her detonator.

The car exploded in a great ball of fire. Shrapnel flew everywhere. Black scorch marks painted the road.

_Huh. Maybe I should have used a lower grade explosive._ Kallen shrugged. _Oh well. It's not like I could pass this off as an unusual petrol leak or something._

After a few seconds for the wind to clear the smoke away, Kallen got a better look at the Dursleys' remains. The bodies were _mostly_ intact, though seared, blackened, and utterly lifeless. If magic could heal _that_, well, she would have to go back to the drawing board and figure out how to spirit Lelouch away.

Satisfied with a job well done, Kallen packed up and left for the nearest railway station. She needed to get home in time for supper.

* * *

Through the haze of his injuries, Lelouch slowly put together what the muffled thunder and momentary shaking of his cupboard meant. Disjointed wheezes escaped him in the crude approximation of laughter. He was finally free.

"Kallen, you wonderful woman," he mumbled as let go of his tenuous grasp on the waking world.

* * *

When Lelouch next awoke, he felt more alive than he had since that awful Halloween night when the Potters died. The cause wasn't just his freedom from his primary tormentors. No, he felt whole in body, too. Someone had taken the effort to heal him well enough to function properly. He could hear the chatter of voices and the pounding of many feet from a distance away.

_Hmm, regular police or magical police? On the one hand, I'm healed, so _someone _magical has been by. On the other hand, I've been isolated here for seven years now. Not that it really matters either way, I suppose._

Lelouch ran through his usual mental exercises to break compulsions to prepare for the coming confrontation. If the magical police were downstairs, he suspected there would be none on him for perhaps the first time since he'd been dumped here. Indeed, he felt none shatter under his introspection, but then they might simply be more subtle than usual.

Regardless, not hearing anyone nearby, Lelouch cracked an eye open. Someone had put him to bed upstairs in his aunt and uncle's bedroom. Now seeing that he was alone – but not discounting invisible watchers – he sat up and investigated his body. The scars remained, each and every one of them, but his bones had knit together well. He could still see his ribs, but that could be fixed easily enough so long as no one tried to shove food down his throat too soon. What a horrible mistake that had been during the Invasion of Japan.

With tentative hope, Lelouch swung his legs over the side of the bed and hopped onto his feet. None of the familiar jolts of pain accompanied the act. A few experimental steps and then leaps confirmed his body's working order.

Lelouch's attention next landed on a folded pile of black cloth on a wing chair with an accompanying pair of shoes which looked as though they'd been ripped from the nineteenth century. The cloth turned out to be an elaborate set of robes in roughly his size.

_Well, this answers the magical or mundane question._ Shrugging, Lelouch donned the outfit. It wasn't like he had anything better fitting.

Not long after he finished changing, a light knock came on the door. It parted the next moment just enough to peek inside before swinging wide open. A woman strode into the room, wand in hand, wearing lime-green robes with a crossed wand and bone embroidered upon her chest. Her head snapped back at someone hidden outside the room with a sharp glare, her long brown hair flying about her. Whoever remained behind had obviously gotten the message and stayed put.

Now that Lelouch got a closer look at the woman, he noticed her move with an aristocratic bearing. Her features held many of the hallmarks of this world's nobility. Indeed, her diction matched, but she spoke with a gentle warmth and, if she could be trusted, not as a politician. "Good morning, Harry. My name is Andromeda Tonks. I'm a…doctor."

Not interested in acting like a child – no one would ever believe him, and the Dursleys had never cared – Lelouch instead chose to act like a child acting like an adult. "Good morning, Dr Tonks. I'm assuming you're the one who patched me up?"

"I may have sped the process along, but from my observations, you seem to have a remarkable talent for self-care. Do you want to become a doctor when you grow up?"

"I've considered it," Lelouch replied truthfully. He hadn't given much thought to the future in this new life beyond reuniting with his queen and his witch, but the idea _had_ crossed his mind. "Is doctor the correct term for a magical healer, then?"

"You know about magic? With what I've heard of your aunt and uncle, I'd have thought, well…"

Lelouch waved Dr Tonks's faux pas away. "When, after every time you perform some remarkable feat, you're beaten and told magic isn't real, it's natural to assume the opposite."

"Ah, yes…" A tinge of distress showed in Dr Tonks's expression due to the very clinical response. She cleared her throat and banished it for a more neutral look. "To answer your question, my official title is Healer Tonks. Now why don't you make yourself comfortable on the bed while I verify your health."

Not having a reason to object despite how much he didn't want anyone casting spells he didn't know on him, Lelouch kicked off his shoes and complied. Healer Tonks then began waving her wand in intricate patterns, mumbling to herself all the while.

"How are you feeling?" Healer Tonks eventually asked.

"Malnourished but otherwise well enough."

"Well, we'll see what we can do about that. You'll be happy to know you're recovering quickly."

Having confirmation from an actual healer _was_ reassuring, but it now left a larger looming question for an innocent Harry Potter to ask. "I appreciate all your efforts, but please indulge me. Why are you here _now_?" Lelouch neither could nor wanted to keep the bite from his voice.

Healer Tonks wore an unexpectedly hurt expression. "From what I've been told, it's a complex legal matter."

"Try me," Lelouch replied.

Almost immediately, another woman's voice cut in. "Allow me to answer that." A middle-aged witch in immaculate robes, clearly dressed to impress, came into the room from just outside the door. Lelouch could tell at a glance that the woman was a politician. Healer Tonks shot her a glare for all the good it did. "I'm Millicent Bagnold, Minister for Magic. A pleasure to meet you Harry."

Lelouch arched an eyebrow. What was the head of the magical government, he assumed, doing here? "Likewise," he said. "So? What brings the illustrious Minister for Magic here?"

"As Healer Tonks mentioned, it's complicated. You see, Harry, the magical world was at war until only a few years ago. A very evil wizard tried to take over the government. He came very close, too, but remarkably, he died when he came after you. It's made you very famous in our world. _Everyone_ wanted to adopt you."

_That…explains a lot. _Lelouch needed time alone to fully process this revelation. He'd always assumed his escape from death had come as a happy accident or some convolved plan. Instead, it must have been the result of whatever spells Lily Potter had laid on him as her last hurrah. He'd have to revise his opinion of his second mother considerably. Still, that left one important question. "Why did I end up _here_?"

The minister sighed and levitated a chair over next to the bed for her to fall on heavily. A touch of drama never hurt even in this world, it seemed. "Harry," she began, "how do you feel about muggles?"

What on Earth was a muggle? Apparently, they were nonmagical humans. "Why do you ask?"

"The war we fought, the one you ended–"

'_I' ended?_ Lelouch packed that away for later analysis.

"–we fought it over whether muggles and witches and wizards born to muggles should have the same rights as anyone else." At Healer Tonks's scoff, Minister Bagnold added, "More or less."

Lelouch saw where this was headed. "I see. And if I were to make a few careless comments, it would be like hurling a firebrand into the country. Your war isn't exactly over, is it?"

This earned Lelouch an evaluating eye from the minister. "You're a very sharp child. You're not wrong."

"Then you need not fear. I have nothing against the nonmagical." Of course, even if he did, Lelouch had no power in this situation to say otherwise. The last thing he needed was to _invite_ these people to modify his personality.

"Excellent," the minister said with relief thick in her tone. "To answer your original question, your parents left no will behind. Or at least not one that we could find. The cottage they left you is in need of some, shall we say, repair. Regardless, after much debate, the Wizengamot, our highest governing body, eventually settled on placing you with your closest living relatives. At the time… Well, let's just say that you're related to a number of very bad people."

_Oh, fantastic._ "So you dumped me with my mother's sister to avoid something worse?" Lelouch received a nod. _I see. This calls my gaoler's motives into question. Is it purely for politics, or is there some darker plot at work? If it's the former, I can't trust _anyone _in the government yet, neither enemies nor 'allies'._ For now, he put the matter from his mind.

"And now you're here," Lelouch continued. "I'm going to go out on a limb. My relatives are dead?"

"Yes, Harry. They were killed on Halloween."

_On Halloween?_ "How long have I been out?"

"A little over two days," Healer Tonks answered, "although you slipped in and out of consciousness during your recovery."

"The head of our law enforcement is downstairs waiting to personally interview you. We haven't caught the killer yet."

Lelouch snorted. "Don't try too hard."

Both women shot him troubled looks.

"What?" Lelouch asked. "For as long as I can remember, they've treated me as a slave and a whipping boy. Why should I show them any more care or concern than they've shown me?" That didn't much soothe either woman's worries, but he paid them no mind. "What happens to me now? As far as I know, I have no other relatives on my mother's side by blood."

"Yes, well, fortunately, if you wish to use the term, although distant, your _current_ closest living relatives able to care for you are the Weasleys."

Healer Tonks cleared her throat, very clearly offended.

"Ah, yes, your closest living relatives able and not ruled ineligible."

While there were other conclusions to be made, Lelouch guessed, "We're related?"

"Second cousins once or twice removed, I believe," Healer Tonks replied. "Your grandmother was Dorea Potter née Black. I was expelled from the House of Black for marrying a muggleborn, a technicality that has ruled me ineligible to take you in according to some. Arthur Weasley's mother, Cedrella, was only unofficially disowned."

"I see…" It would take some time to see how trustworthy this woman would prove to be, but having actual family in this world could prove invaluable. That she was a professional healer only made it more appealing to recruit her. "Should I call you Aunt Andromeda, then?"

"If you'd like. Cousin Andromeda or just Andromeda might be more…appropriate."

Lelouch managed a friendly chuckle. "Don't worry. I'm not soured on the idea of aunts just because of Petunia." Uncles, on the other hand, had been uniformly horrid to him. "So I'm to be placed with Arthur Weasley next? Have you actually vetted him first this time?"

If the minister took offence to that, she didn't show it. "Arthur is a good man with seven happy children. You'll be well taken care of with his family, I assure you."

_The eighth child and not even one of his own, eh? Well, at least I won't have to suffer much active parental supervision in the chaos if I don't cause trouble._

"There is one more thing," the minister continued a little hesitantly. "It will be to everyone's benefit if your cousin stays with you."

Lelouch was distinctly unamused.

* * *

Lelouch's first view of his new place of residence left him distinctly unimpressed. What once had been a quaint little cottage beside a pond had developed a tumour. As if some cruel god had dumped a series of smaller buildings atop the home, the growth extended upwards and over the original roof several storeys. Multiple chimneys jutted out of the several roofs – four by his count, though he may have missed one or two. Without any visible support beams, the entire monstrosity should collapse under its own weight. Indeed, without magic, it probably would.

On the grounds, a small brood of chickens idly wandered about in search of food. He couldn't see their coop anywhere, but he assumed it existed independently of the main building and the shed filled with a seemingly random assortment of nonmagical objects. In the garden, he caught a glimpse of a small, ugly creature resembling a potato in a roughly humanoid shape before it disappeared underground.

"You freaks expect me to live here?" Dudley asked, accusation lacing his tone. Lelouch agreed with the sentiment but kept his thoughts to himself. "I want to live with Aunt Marge!"

"Now now," Minister Bagnold said in a futile attempt to mollify Dudley. "I'm sure you'll be very comfortable here once you get used to it. Magic is a wonderful thing. You'll see." Not that the boy had any choice. The magical government had faked both of their deaths to pull them out of the nonmagical system.

Lelouch tuned out the rest of the conversation in favour of observing his new surroundings. He had no idea where in England he was or even if he was in England at all anymore. He'd only been given the name 'The Burrow' and a brief description before being teleported to the dirt road leading to the building.

The front door led immediately into the family room. Five redheads inside rather than the expected nine welcomed Lelouch and his entourage into their home. He immediately identified Arthur Weasley, his cousin of some variety, as the eldest male. The man was already balding and wore glasses, oddly enough. Perhaps the financial burden of such a large family had prevented him from visiting a healer to correct either problem. Regardless, he had an easygoing air about him and looked happy enough.

The man's wife, short and slightly plump, introduced herself as Molly Weasley with a comment on how dreadfully thin Lelouch looked and promises to take care of them both. The youngest child and only daughter emitted an eep, blushed, and fled when Lelouch looked at her. This prompted Molly to introduce her as Ginevra Weasley, or Ginny as she preferred.

As a first impression, the girl reminded Lelouch of a younger Shirley. He hoped growing up with him would trigger inbreeding avoidance in her. It would make his life much simpler. He didn't need the drama nor whatever marital pressures a society which cared so much about bloodlines might be able to bring to bear upon him.

A pair of twins introduced themselves as Fred and George Weasley under the stern glare of their mother. Even so, they seemed unable to resist reintroducing themselves as Gred and Forge in alternating dialogue. That would quickly grow annoying, Lelouch was sure.

Lastly, there was Ron Weasley. He looked a bit lanky for his age with somewhat large hands and a long nose. Unlike the rest of the family – although perhaps Ginny shouldn't count – his eyes immediately drew up to Lelouch's forehead and the lightning bolt shaped scar peeking out from beneath the fringe of his hair.

"We're sorry the whole family couldn't be here, Harry dear, but Bill, Charlie, and Percy are off at Hogwarts," Molly said.

Upon enquiring, Lelouch discovered that Hogwarts was the premier school of magic in the world. He glanced at the present and very much school-aged children in the Weasley family with a wary eye. Although already certain of the answer, he asked, "Do they have important exams coming up, then? I only ask because the rest of your children are here."

"Blimey, do we look eleven to you?" Ron asked.

"No. No, of course not," Lelouch said with a sigh. The lack of education suited _him_ just fine. He'd been through the school system already in a more technologically advanced civilisation. Dudley's already bleak future, on the other hand, to say nothing of the wider magical population, had just taken a major downturn. Not that he really cared about the former. And the boy himself, poor fool, expressed his delight at the prospect of not having to go to school anymore. With no magic and no education, his prospects were slim.

The minister exchanged a few words with Arthur and Molly before departing with the rest of her entourage. That left the family alone with their new boarders. They offered a tour of the house before getting them settled into their room.

Their room. Singular.

_Fantastic._

* * *

One pleasant surprise of all this, it turned out, was the deluge of gifts. Apparently, Petunia and Vernon had demanded that the freaks stop sending things to their nephew, and their wishes had been respected. But now? Now Lelouch owned more clothes and toys than he knew what to do with and had entirely too much fan mail. The Boy-Who-Lived, they called him. Ridiculous.

Amelia Bones, the current head of the DMLE, had explained that she'd ordered her people to screen all of his mail to remove everything dangerous for him. While Lelouch didn't appreciate having his incoming mail intercepted, he did admit to not knowing how to protect himself even remotely well enough to have it remain unfiltered.

As an added benefit, passing off all of the gifts he didn't need first to his hosts and then to charity seemed to earn him major points with the Weasleys. If nothing else, they at least _usually_ respected that he preferred to read the books people sent him over playing silly children's games or riding broomsticks. In a rambunctious house with few books outside of his own and little regard for intellectual pursuits, that could not be taken for granted. Perhaps life here wouldn't be so bad.

Curled up in bed, an open book atop the blankets in his lap, Lelouch contemplated his current priorities. He needed to learn how to protect his mind. He needed to establish a line of communication with Kallen. He needed to determine who his enemies were. He needed a wand.

Lastly, he needed to decide what he wanted to do with this second life. In a case of cross dimensional irony, it appeared his second mother's actions had made him the de facto Prince of Magical Britain. He had more power than any child should, but he also knew his star wasn't yet so bright that it couldn't be extinguished if he acted too far against the grain. He'd need to be careful.

Regardless, his more immediate goals had a common solution: contact Kallen. He could rely upon her. He only needed to find a way to send a letter to her without being noticed. Sending brief replies to all of his fan mail and slipping one to her into the lot was the obvious solution, but it could backfire on him if he tried to send a mail owl to someone nonmagical. Besides, he didn't particularly wish to pen thousands of letters by hand with a quill of all things.

Wandering down to the local village, Ottery St Catchpole, to send off regular post was an option, but it would draw attention. The last letter he'd sent her he'd gone to no small trouble to insert into the postal system without raising alarm.

With some amusement, Lelouch considered striking up a mutual exchange of fan letters between the two of them. It wouldn't work except in the unlikely scenario where she was a witch, but the idea got a laugh out of him nonetheless.

The door to Lelouch's room opened, and Ron walked in unannounced with a chess board in his hand and a determined look on his face. The boy had struck up a rather one-sided rivalry with Lelouch. In all honesty, although he lost every game they played, he had talent and skill for his age. It wasn't his fault he was out of his league.

Lelouch closed his book and invited Ron to sit across from him on the bed. He liked to drag these games out and make instructive commentary. As far as connections to his previous life went, it wasn't much, but it was far more than he'd been allowed the last eight years.

* * *

Today was the birthday of one Pandora Lovegood, and every resident of the Burrow had been invited to the celebration. The Lovegoods lived in what Ron described as a giant rook a short walk from the Weasleys' own home. Beyond that, all Lelouch knew about the family came from Ginny and Ron expressing their mutual dislike of the Lovegoods' daughter, Luna, who preferred to go by her initials.

"Xenophilius is a bit dotty," the man with a strange obsession with the nonmagical largely rooted in fantasy explained to Dudley. As if Arthur had room to talk, he continued, "Remember your manners. If he says anything unusual, don't be rude."

As they climbed the hill leading up to the Lovegoods' home, Lelouch observed that the building did indeed resemble a black rook. Despite Ron's objections, it looked like a lovely place to live. The local biota included such novelties as actual rooks and the dirigible plum. A real living and breathing fairy flew past the group on their trek, drawing Lelouch's gaze along in its wake and away from their destination.

Thus did his eyes fall upon a barefoot girl his own age moving almost perpendicularly away from their group. It must be the Lovegood daughter, L.L.. She had lime-green hair – not at all natural for this world – sprawling down her back and something of an orangish-yellow colour clutched to her chest.

Lelouch froze in place midstep. It couldn't be.

He took a step toward the girl. In the back of his mind, he acknowledged the Weasleys saying something to him, but he only took another step forward. All thoughts of secrecy and subtlety left him as he ran to catch up with the girl.

As he approached, the girl turned her head to look back at him. Her blank expression was so very familiar even if another face wore it now. Cementing his belief, he recognised the object in her arms as a Cheese-kun. He had no doubts now.

Lelouch wrapped the bemused girl in his arms and whispered into her ear, "I know where Kallen is."

The response was immediate. "Lelouch?"

* * *

**A/N:** I had a lot of choices for C.C.. I knew I wanted her to be a pureblood to complete the muggleborn, halfblood, pureblood trio. The contenders were Luna (a lonely, strange girl who endures and carries on), Daphne (the fanonical ice queen indifferent to most everyone), Fluer (perhaps the cruelest option, a veela), and herself (but, you know, born centuries ago again). I ended up going with Luna when I remembered that, if you consider Harry's paternal grandmother to be Dorea Black rather than a pair of nobodies Word of God invented after the fact to remove the squick from the Hinny ship, he's related to the Weasleys who live next door closely enough to ship him off there.

* * *

Behold! A shameless self-promotion! I have a Patrreon account under the username Forthwith if you want to support my writing in general.


	5. Y0S5 - CC's Bizarre Adventure

**A/N:** Sadly, I own neither _Code Geass_ nor _Harry Potter_.

* * *

Year Zero  
Stage 05 - C.C.'s Bizarre Adventure

As soon as C.C. had grown enough to understand what had happened to her, she burst into laughter for the first time in longer than she cared to put a number to. She'd tried to kill herself for centuries, and now that she'd stopped, some rando had done the job for her. Yet it wasn't the blessed finality of nothingness that she'd thought to be the fate of all code bearers which awaited her. It seemed even when she died, she couldn't die.

A woman C.C. recognised as her mother in this world picked her up with gentle, reassuring, and completely meaningless shushing sounds. She said something in a language that sounded as if German and French had somehow managed to have a bastard child with Latin. Guessing at its meaning, C.C. thought the woman told her not to cry.

Such pointlessness. Why not tell the moon not to rise? She was alone again. First Lelouch had the audacity to skip off to C's World, and then some nobody had ripped out her code and killed Kallen in the midst of one of their trysts. Those two were probably enjoying their afterlife together while she was stuck…wherever she was.

Maybe if she died again, she could die properly this time. If she was lucky, she'd be reunited with Lelouch and Kallen. Without a code or a geass, a definitive no and yes respectively, she had no way of knowing if her original connection to the collective unconscious had been repaired.

Not yet.

Oh, and apparently magic was a thing now. She'd have to look into that.

* * *

_How peculiar. The Temple of Kings is missing, but the surrounding geography is identical. It's almost like someone ripped the area out of reality and stitched the rest together._ Flipping from one atlas to the next, slowly feeling the dust shake off of her cartography skills, C.C. developed a working hypothesis. _Someone must have hidden the Britannian Isles' Thought Elevator with magic ages ago. Probably a good idea, but frustrating for me._

Technically, it was the British Isles' Thought Elevator, but C.C. didn't much concern herself with the little differences between this world and her own. She just wanted to return home as soon as possible.

Some little red-headed urchins came by asking to play, but C.C. ignored them until Pandora finally intervened and led them away. If she'd had one spot of luck in this entire misadventure, it was the good fortune to be born to the Lovegoods. In addition to being an only child, both of her parents were eccentric in the extreme in almost perpendicular directions and asked no questions.

Well, that was untrue. They asked lots of questions, but ones usually more along the lines of 'Where do you think we should plant the snargaluff?' or 'What aspect of reality should I develop a spell to break next?' rather than more the troublesome 'How did you learn how to read?'

But speaking of, it was time to acquire some assistance. C.C. gathered up her maps and climbed up out of the library. She then descended the spiral stairs fashioned about the outer walls of the Rookery down to the top floor of the building. Navigating through the printing press for the Quibbler tabloid – the entire room was enchanted to act as one single abomination – she at last came to the chief and only editor's office where she found Xenophilius Lovegood at work compiling next month's issue.

C.C., straining her tiny body, pulled up a chair in front of Xeno's desk. The man was polite enough not to notice the racket she made in the process nor her climbing up onto the seat. This allowed her to dramatically drop her maps atop his work.

Xeno jumped in supposed shock before peering down at the documents. "What is all this, L.L.?"

"I've discovered a conspiracy." As C.C. knew they would, Xeno's eyes lit up. She pointed to where the Temple of Kings should be. "Look at this area closely." She snatched the quill in Xeno's hands and began annotating the nearby roads with the aid of another map. "If we calculate the apparent area on the map, we get a significantly smaller number than if we calculate the area inside the roads surrounding it."

"And you've checked that there's no magical beings living there?"

C.C. nodded as she pulled out another map detailing the locations of all the major magical settlements, human or otherwise, in the Britannian Isles. One only required a quick glance to verify her point.

"Incredible!" Xeno rose from his chair, and C.C. permitted him to indulge in a fatherly pat on the head. "You're a natural, my little moonbeam. Now we must investigate at once! This could very well be front page material. The story of the century!"

Without warning, Xeno hoisted C.C. onto his shoulders and carried her out of the room. It was safer to travel this way in this house, she figured, so she just let him get on with it.

* * *

After a quick teleport down to the southern end of Britain, C.C. and Xeno arrived at the edge of what the latter had dubbed the 'suspicious zone'. Once they'd performed an initial check for danger, they began the trek toward the Temple of Kings. As this was her discovery, Xeno had offered C.C. the honour of leading the way. This was fortunate since, instead of wandering around blindly chasing rumours as was the man's normal modus operandi, she actually knew where to find their destination.

And so they set out. For miles they walked with nothing of interest occurring. Xeno stopped them on several occasions to investigate a sound he heard in the bushes. Not surprisingly, he found only deer and, on one occasion, a fox.

They came upon a fast moving stream. Xeno said, "Watch and do as I do," before hopping from rock to rock across the waters. He slipped on the last one and fell gracelessly onto his face on the opposite bank. "Well, perhaps not _exactly_ as I do."

C.C. casually walked through the shallow water. On the other side, she looked up and quirked an eyebrow at Xeno. He dried her damp socks and shoes for her while mumbling about the spirit of adventure.

No more than ten steps from the stream, Xeno suddenly grasped C.C. roughly by the arm and pulled her back two full steps. He wore, for perhaps the first time in her second life, a terribly serious expression as he stared at the empty forest before them.

"We just crossed a ward line." Xeno released his grip and sent his wand to work. "Muggle-repelling. Anti-flight. What on Earth…" After a series of additional diagnostics, his face settled into a heavy frown. "A dimensional anchor? No one has known how to make those since before Merlin."

C.C. hummed curiously. It seemed her guess had been spot on. Someone had hidden this Thought Elevator – indeed, likely all of them – before _she_ was born. And she had a sneaking suspicion concerning why. There was, after all, one _major_ difference between this world and her own. That could present complications.

"Is there any reason to turn back?" C.C. asked. Her tried and true method of walking forward until something killed her and she regenerated sadly wouldn't work very well anymore.

After a few moments, Xeno tentatively replied, "No. The wards are harmless. But there's _no_ quick way in or out."

_In other words, everyone is welcome to knock on the front door._ No small effort had been spent hiding and protecting the Thought Elevator, however, so C.C. assumed one needed the metaphorical key to actually enter. _How frustrating._

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained," C.C. said as she stepped forward. This proved encouragement enough to bring Xeno along with her.

The journey started out normal, nothing more than a leisurely walk through the woods. The first sign of trouble came when Xeno gasped. Following his eyes, C.C.'s gaze landed on a purple monstrosity that looked something like a small camel with a wrinkled horn. "It's a crumple-horned snorkack!" All sense of caution seemed to leave him, although he at least had the good sense to tell his daughter to stay put while he got a closer look.

Of course, Xeno had no sooner left than disappeared. He vanished without fanfare, merely there one moment and then gone the next. The strange purple animal had departed with him as well.

_Curious._ When C.C. stepped in the same direction, nothing happened. She glanced back in the direction she'd come from only to find, to her mild surprise, exactly where she'd come from. _How strange._ _Exceptions to wards have to be keyed in specifically to a person's magic._ She remembered seeing Pandora adjust the Rookery's to allow a colleague to apparate out if an experiment went awry. _The ones here must have taken him somewhere, then, rather than him leaving voluntarily. But why him and not me?_

_Perhaps it's because I know where I'm going or why I'm here?_ While C.C. knew little about this world's magic, she did know intent mattered. Being in the wrong frame of mind or believing incorrectly could cause your magic to fail. _Hmm, perhaps that is the key, then. Or at least part of it. If you intend to go to the Thought Elevator, you can._

With a shrug, C.C. continued onwards. The wards left her undisturbed throughout the remainder of her journey. Eventually, she came upon what _should_ have been the ruins of Prifddinas, a grand fortress city built by Alwin the First a mere two years after uniting the tribes against the invading Romans which served as Britannia's original capital city.

Instead, C.C. found nothing but the relatively modest little structure Alwin had built his capital around, the Temple of Kings itself. Even in this world where the Thought Elevators had been hidden away who knew how many millennia ago, its architectural style had produced a profound influence upon the Graeco-Roman world. The grand, stylised columns stood tall and unblemished despite the ravages of time, as did the inner walls and the artistic embellishments. The entrance to the temple, easily ten times as wide and tall as C.C.'s current stature, had no doors. She could see the dais at the back of the temple with the pyramidal control system and the portal into C's World behind that. All seemed well.

Until she stepped inside.

The Temple of Kings faded away. In its place, C.C. found herself atop a grassy knoll in the middle of a wide plain with a river winding through it not too far away. Something about the scene niggled at the back of her mind like a distant memory. She did recognise the architectural style of the buildings in the nearby village as distinctly late medieval, but without the perfect recall that came with her code, she couldn't put her finger on exactly where she was.

More curiously, everything looked smaller than it should. But then perhaps C.C. had that backwards. For the first time in years, nothing looked bigger than it should. She glanced down at herself. Long, slender arms and legs. Curves. A horrid red dress that should have been lost to history. She brought a hand up to inspect her breast. Indeed, her scar had returned.

C.C. focused on her desire for a mirror. An ovular cheval mirror appeared from the aether in front of her. In it, she saw the reflection of herself in what her mind considered her true form. She brushed back her hair to find the symbol of geass once more upon her forehead, although it came without the benefits of her code.

With a thought, C.C. banished the mirror and replaced her dress with the straitjacket Lelouch had futilely insisted she not wear. She knew where she was now: the World of C, where belief became reality. That left her with two possibilities. First, some magic had pulled her through the Thought Elevator by her mere presence. Second, some idiot had reversed the Thought Elevator's functionality and brought C's World into reality.

Considering that this universe possessed magic, C.C. found the latter more probable despite not knowing where one would even begin to go about it.

C.C.'s thoughts drifted, and she regretted her slip in control immediately. She spied both Lelouch and Kallen locked in an amorous embrace on the sandy banks of the river.

Without her.

The two broke apart for air, and something seemed to catch Kallen's eye. She glanced up and, upon noticing C.C. and staring for a second or two, waved her hand high in the air in both greeting and invitation.

C.C. forced herself to turn away. The dead spoke, in a sense, but those two were mere figments of her imagination. If she were to involve herself in a complicated ménage à trois that was one part genuine affection, one part regret, one part loneliness, and one part alcohol, it would be with the queen and their mutual love interest themselves, not soulless ghosts.

Instead of succumbing to temptation, C.C. began down the dirt path that led to the village and ignored the distant calls for her to return. Moving about wouldn't truly take her anywhere in C's World, but she needed to get away to shore up her concentration.

Without warning, another figure appeared before C.C., one that had long since been blessed with oblivion. She ignored the nun who had raised her and given her power only to curse her with immortality. Despite the centuries of ennui and soul crushing depression, she could be grateful. She'd met Lelouch in the end. And Kallen, too, she supposed. That girl was fun to tease.

"Do you have a reason to live?"

She wasn't real, so C.C. paid the nun no attention.

But what if she was? What if, without C.C. in this world, she never found someone to take her code. What if she'd gotten trapped here, forced to languish in C's World waiting for someone who could?

What if it didn't even matter in this strange world?

C.C. turned back, chains rattling beneath her rags, to the second most hated human being of her entire life. A code bearer might be able to help her in her quest. "I want to go home," she declared up at the woman twice her height.

The scene shifted once more. C.C. needed no hints to recognise either the great walled city that now surrounded her or the magnificent manor that towered over her.

"Slave!"

_That voice–_

"What are you doing outside the manor!"

Six hundred years had not dulled C.C.'s memory of that voice. She'd sold herself to Britannia, tied herself by her honour to the imperial family forever, for the mere chance to murder the man it belonged to only for some illiterate peasant girl to come along and ruin everything.

C.C.'s breath came heavy and ever heavier, fast and ever faster. It was just a spectre. He wasn't real. None of this was real.

Then the Duke of Orléans seized her by the arm.

A red haze descended over C.C.'s vision. Her blood coursed through her veins with passion and fury she'd thought time had taken from her. With a shrill cry, she yanked her arm free of her master's grasp. She whirled in place, drawing back her arm, and then ran the man through with a rapier she'd broken centuries ago. As he crumpled to his knees, she reached out and grasped him by the forehead. There she held him to relish the shock in his eyes.

"Six hundred and thirty years I've had to wait for this moment. Scream for me."

C.C. pushed her entire life of misery into the man. The Code R experiments. His treatment of her. The endless wanderings. The loneliness. The executions she'd endured. The betrayals. Her broken heart. She gave him everything, and such sweet music he sang. No matter how long she tried, she'd not be able to compose more suitable lyrics.

When C.C. released the man, he fell, catatonic, to the ground with an ignoble thump. She kicked him in the groin without so much as a grunt in response. "Pathetic." With a precise thrust of her sword, she severed the spinal cord running through his neck.

It was done.

A strange, uneven laughter broke the silence. It took C.C. a few seconds to realise the sound had come from her. In the passing of these few moments, she felt like she understood both Lelouch and Kallen so much more. She'd forgotten what it mean to be filled past overflowing with the desire for vengeance. She'd forgotten what it took to overcome those feelings.

"Well?" C.C. screamed at the heavens. "I asked to go home! Take me there!"

Again, the scene changed. C.C. stood before an unassuming little thatched roof cottage at its front and likely only door. Both it and the windows swung outwards judging by the hinges. Although all were closed, the stench that emanated from the building was unmistakable: blood.

This was home?

C.C. hopped on her tiny legs to reach the handle. Hanging awkwardly in the air, she gained a bit of leverage by pressing her feet up against the doorframe. Using them, she pushed off the wall and managed to pry the heavy oak door open inch by inch. Inside, she found the body of a man and a woman with multiple lacerations from, she assumed by the appearance of the wounds, arming swords. The woman had lime green hair identical to her own.

Wild, unhinged laughter built up within C.C. until it escaped her as she stared down at the long forgotten bodies of her parents. Of course this was home. Home with death. Everyone she ever cared about died long before their time. How many of those tragic ends had she caused herself? She'd lost count over the centuries.

"Luna!" a voice called out. C.C. barely registered its existence. "Luna! Luna? Oh, my little moonbeam, thank Merlin's soggy left sock!" A pair of arms enveloped C.C.'s numb body and brought her up to near eye level. She went limp in them and sagged against their owner's chest. "Where have you been?"

"Take me home."

"What? But–"

"Take me home." C.C. barely restrained herself from sobbing into – assuming the man wasn't another spectre – Xeno's chest. She felt her control slipping. "Please."

Xeno gently shushed C.C. while rocking her in his arms. "Don't be scared. We'll go home. We just need to walk back out of this forest first."

* * *

C.C. had no idea how to respond when a strange little boy with messy black hair and a raw, red scar on his forehead rushed up to her and wrapped his arms around her. He'd arrived with the Weasleys, so she'd expected him to be warned off of her in advance.

Apparently, that was not the case. C.C. had just made up her mind to shove the boy away from her when he spoke in Britannian English. "I know where Kallen is."

A silent gasp escaped C.C.. It couldn't be. She forced herself to breathe out, "Lelouch?"

"It's me."

C.C.'s Cheese-kun fell to the ground without a second thought as she brought her hands up to the boy's face, tentatively exploring the new form as she sought to verify the truth in a visceral way words never could. "This is another trick." What else could it be?

"A trick?" the spectre said. He muttered something under his breath. "Are you being watched too?"

"Watched? I… No?" Where were her words when she needed them?

"Good. Drag me off somewhere private so we can swap stories."

The spectre disentangled himself and moved to leave. C.C.'s hands immediately shot out and grasped one of his in a death grip as she desperately tried to get her brain working again.

_This has never happened before so far from a Thought Elevator. That means… That means…_ "You're real?"

An arched eyebrow met the question. "Of course I am."

Those were the magic words. C.C. did as requested and dragged a stumbling Lelouch by the arm away from the Weasleys and the Rookery to find somewhere they could speak undisturbed.

* * *

**A/N:** To be continued

That would have been a beautifully stylised arrow in the appropriate format if this site allowed me to reproduce it accurately in the characters it permits. Sigh...

Anyway, the next stage of KSCoB is in editing and will be posted as soon as I finish that process (probably within the next day or two).

* * *

Behold! A shameless self-promotion! I have a Patrreon account under the username Forthwith if you want to support my writing in general.


	6. Y0S6 - Reunions

**A/N:** Sadly, I own neither _Code Geass_ nor _Harry Potter_.

**Edit: ***pinches bridge of nose* I cannot believe I have to do this, but here we are.

If you believe a kiss is an inherently sexual act, perhaps this isn't the story for you.

If you have a problem with a 26-year-old (Lelouch) and a 30-year-old (Kallen) exchanging a light kiss upon their reunion while stuck in the bodies of children, perhaps this story isn't for you.

If you have a problem with a 600ish-year-old (C.C.) finishing a more intense one sans groping (what even would there be to grope?) or any graphic description whatsoever after a cripplingly lonely, 7 year long interruption after which she's told not to do that again while stuck in the body of a child, perhaps this story isn't for you.

If you have a problem with these three having an open, frank discussion about their relationship going forward, perhaps this isn't the story for you.

If you have a problem with them engaging in more intimate acts off-screen in the future while under the effects of an aging potion, perhaps this isn't the story for you.

Those three aren't going to put their lives on hold just because they're physically young, and they're not about to act or talk like children nor forget what it was like to be fully grown.

Now let's get to the actual story.

* * *

Year Zero  
Stage 06 - Reunions

When Emma opened the front door to see who had knocked, she found a girl of perhaps seven or eight years with hair dyed lime green. In her arms, the girl held a Cheese-kun plushie a size too big. It was a few weeks too late for Halloween, but then this was hardly the first time a starry-eyed young fan had shown up on the doorstep.

"Hello there," Emma said. "I like your costume."

The girl tilted her head to the side. "Costume?"

_Ah…_ It was going to be one of those visits. "You're C.C., right?"

"Yes, actually. I'm surprised you know about me."

Emma adopted her best mysterious smile. "Oh, I have my ways. I assume you want to speak with my daughter."

The girl nodded.

"I'll see if she's available for you. Feel free to wait on the sofa if you'd like."

The girl accepted the offer and made herself comfortable. Meanwhile, Emma headed upstairs and tracked down Hermione in the potions lab. She knocked first, not knowing if there would be any noxious fumes to beware of, and received the all clear to enter a moment later.

"You have a fan here to see you," Emma said as she poked her head inside. "An adorable little girl dressed up and roleplaying as C.C.. She even has a Cheese-kun."

"Yeah, don't guilt me into anything, Mum, thanks." This elicited a few chuckles from the woman in question. "I'll be down in a minute."

"I'll let her know."

Back downstairs, Emma passed the word on with the warning that it would be about ten minutes before Hermione actually managed to disentangle herself from her current project. To tide the young girl over, Emma offered to make a cup of hot cocoa to take away the early winter chill. She made three in the end, one for each of them, and sat down on the chair opposite their guest.

"Have you been reading long?" Emma asked.

The girl quirked an eyebrow at the question. "For about six hundred years now," she stated simply.

"Of course." Emma smiled and nodded with the tacit assumption that the girl had picked up Hermione's book on day one. The lower end of the target audience was a few years older than that would have made her, but no matter. "What was your favourite moment from the Black Rebellion?"

"Favourite…moment?" The girl gave Emma an odd look. Eventually, she replied, "When I kissed Lelouch, I suppose," before taking a long, slow sip from her drink. "Hmm, I probably shouldn't have said that without asking what you already know."

"Oh, I know everything." Beyond the extra information Hermione had told her that hadn't gone into the book, Emma had been one of the editors. There were no spoilers for her.

Again, the girl favoured Emma with an odd look as she asked, "_Everything_?"

"Mhm."

"Well, I'll be. Brave girl."

At this moment, Hermione finally descended the stairs to come and join them. She spied her cocoa far in advance of it being offered to her and snatched it up as though the chocolate were precious ambrosia delivered by the gods themselves. Emma rolled her eyes. _Honestly, that girl and her sweet tooth._

"Kallen?"

Hermione, with a dark line on her upper lip, looked up from her drink and took in their guest. To Emma, she said, "You were right," before turning back to the girl. "You're not wrong, but my real name is Hermione Granger. I don't believe I caught yours."

The girl let out an amused snort with just a hint of irritation. "_Those_ are your first words to me? I do believe we were in the middle of something when we were interrupted."

"Oh. Uh…sorry?" Hermione, bemused, looked uncertainly between the girl and Emma.

On her own end, Emma shrugged. She didn't feel as though her conversation with the girl had been all that important compared to meeting the author herself.

"You'll make it up to me, I'm sure. Anyway, my official name here is Luna Lovegood. I go by L.L.."

"Huh? What do you mean by here?"

Emma herself wanted to know the answer to that as well. If they had a young visitor to the country lost and wandering around in their house, they would need to contact the police.

"This world. What else would I mean?"

A moment passed as Hermione and L.L. stared at each other in mutual confusion. And then the former's eyes widened. The beginnings of what sounded like a name slipped past her lips.

The girl glared Hermione into immediate silence.

With an oddly apologetic look, Hermione descended into a rapid exchange with L.L. in another language that didn't sound at all like Japanese or the smatterings of French she'd picked up on holiday. That could only mean one thing. Emma turned in surprise to the new girl, but that surprise turned into shock after their conversation abruptly ended a few minutes later.

* * *

As a test, just to be sure, Kallen switched to Britannian English. "Is that really you, C.C.?" To her delight, the girl did the same.

"Of course it is. Who else did you think I was?"

"I don't know. Some random fan. You're hardly the first you my parents or I have seen. Cosplay isn't exclusive to Japan, you know."

"Cosplay? What on Earth are you talking about?"

Kallen opened her mouth to respond when a thought struck her. "You haven't read my book, have you?"

"_You_ wrote a book?"

While she felt she should be offended by the comment, Kallen let it go in the excitement of the witch's return. "It's more of a biography of Lelouch's life than a novel, but yeah. Not to brag, but I'm about as famous here now as I was back in our world. I assumed that's what led you here."

C.C. hummed in mild interest before moving on. "No, Lelouch told me where you lived, so I came to pick you up."

A dazzling smile that almost hurt grew on Kallen's face.

"He would have come himself, but he says he's being watched."

As much as she wished to simply charge off with C.C. and be reunited with Lelouch, Kallen asked, "Is it safe for me to go? Wouldn't it draw attention if I suddenly showed up out of nowhere?" That was the only reason she'd not yet knocked on the Weasleys' front door. She knew where Lelouch was, of course – it was all over the news – but had been waiting for him to contact her or invent an excuse to bump into each other.

"Among the many benefits of being a Lovegood," C.C. began, "is that no one questions you. I could introduce Lelouch to a pink llama from Africa named Henry the Fifth, and no one would bat an eye."

"What–" Thinking better of asking, Kallen shook her head. _I don't even want to know._ So long as Lelouch thought this was a good idea, that was good enough for her. "Anything I should know before we leave?"

C.C. hummed in thought for a moment. "Only that magic is supposed to be kept secret from the nonmagical and that we're headed to a magical home. You're invited to Pandora Lovegood's birthday party as my guest."

With a nod, Kallen asked, "Your mother?"

"Biologically speaking."

_Oh._ Although willing to increase her body count, Kallen hoped she didn't have another crisis on her hands. "Do you not get on well with your parents here?"

C.C. shrugged. "Pandora and Xeno are about the best I could have asked for in my situation, but do you honestly think I'm looking for parents in my life?"

The only honest answer Kallen could give was, "No." She stole a glance at her own second mother. It seemed such a waste to throw away another chance at life, but that was C.C.'s decision to make. "Shall we head out, then?"

"One more thing. What are we telling Lelouch about us?"

A blush crept up Kallen's cheeks despite her best efforts to push it down. "I think a better question is where do we stand with each other without grief and alcohol involved? We didn't exactly have the most healthy relationship."

"I've seen far worse ones," C.C. commented.

"The magnitude doesn't change its nature."

Kallen breathed deeply and considered her feelings. With Lelouch back amongst the living, she'd somewhat let the matter of C.C. fall by the wayside. That hardly boded well for any relationship she might strike up again with the witch. Worse, a not inconsiderable part of her feared Lelouch would choose C.C. over her or even both of them.

Yet at the same time, friendship _was_ the basis of any good relationship. Despite how utterly mad C.C. drove her at times, the witch _had_ grown to become her closest friend after Nunnally. And it wasn't like she could credibly deny that she'd enjoyed the physical aspect of that friendship.

Decided, Kallen said, "I'm amenable to a ménage à trois if you are. Or at least to making the attempt."

"That's fine with me." C.C. quickly downed the last of her cocoa and then crossed the distance between them. "But on the subject, I believe we were in the middle of something when we last met."

"We're not old enou – mmph." Despite how little it did for her physically, Kallen relaxed into the kiss and returned it in short order. When they broke apart, she put her foot down. "Not like this. My parents don't need to deal with watching their nine-year-old snogging on top of everything else."

"Hermione Jean Granger, what do you think you're doing!"

Kallen switched back to this world's English. "I'm sorry. I tried to tell her not to, that we're too young, but C.C. is like a cat. She does whatever she wants. I will try my best to keep her under control in the future."

A derisive snort emanated from said girl promising more headaches than she might be worth.

"That's hardly the problem, young lady."

Confused, Kallen exchanged a look with C.C. but only received a shrug in answer to her silent question. She turned back to her mother. "Then…what is?"

Emma now looked just as confused. She opened her mouth a few times to speak but no words came out. Finally, she asked, "What about Lelouch?"

Even more bewildered now, Kallen replied, "What about him?"

"Don't you love him? How do you think he would feel if he knew about this?"

C.C. answered that with a snarky, "Annoyed that he isn't four or five years older, I'm sure."

"Sounds about right," Kallen added. It certainly summed up her own feelings on the matter.

"But…" Emma found herself lost for words and slumped into her seat. "I don't understand."

"Neither do I. What precisely are you objecting to?" Kallen asked.

A quick explanation followed.

"Britain is _monogamous_?" Kallen exclaimed in disbelief. She'd not noticed any plural marriages, sure, but she also hadn't been paying that much attention. There had been so many more important things to investigate. "And what is your deal with bisexuality?"

C.C., meanwhile, howled in laughter inside her own head, Kallen was sure. That smug look on her face said everything for her. Then she had the audacity to comment, "For someone who considers herself Japanese, you have some strong Britannian traits and beliefs."

In that very language, Kallen told C.C. to shut up, but the witch had made a point. This was approximately her world's Europe in the eighties. Marriage in Japan was a bit of a nebulous concept as a result of competing European and Britannian influences on its own culture, but she'd grown up firmly on the Britannian side of divide with all the expectations therein. It hadn't occurred to her that Britain would be so different.

Kallen turned back to her mother, gnawing on her lip as she searched for the right words. "I'll keep C.C. and me out of your face for…well, years, because I'm nine and she's–"

"Seven," C.C. helpfully inserted.

"But please try to understand I'll always have one foot in another culture," Kallen continued. She bowed in Japanese style to emphasise the point. "I appreciate your understanding about my dual identities so far but beg your indulgence one step further."

Despite the obvious disapproval in her eyes, Emma relented for the moment. "This is rather the culture shock for me."

"Like me being a knight?" That had been a stumbling point in the family dynamic as well, but Kallen's parents had ultimately come around to the idea after she'd compromised to try their way to save Lelouch first. And made a legitimate effort toward that end, of course. This time she'd put forward the compromise; the ball was in her mother's court.

Emma nodded. "I'll speak with your father, but…this is going to require some adjustment for the both of us." She hesitated a moment. "You should know that homosexuality isn't outright illegal anymore in Britain, but it's still highly stigmatised. And polygamy is an entirely separate can of worms."

That just made them both another cause to throw onto the fires of purpose within. Kallen knew this world's Europe would probably resolve the former on its own, but she would get involved in the future if she had the time. Thus she dismissed the warning – and possibly the attempt to warn her off – with a wave of her hand. "I'm wealthy enough not to care what society thinks of me." Disregarding the advantages magic gave her, she had more than enough money to live on for the rest of her life even if the world treated her like a leper until the very day she died.

"Anyway," Kallen said, "I've been invited to a party where I can 'meet' Lelouch. I'm going to head out." She paused, a little scared to ask, but forced herself to push on in the end. In a smaller voice than she'd like, she asked, "Do I get a goodbye hug?"

Emma's expression softened as a hint of guilt found its way onto her face. "Of course, princess." If the embrace were any less loving than before, Kallen didn't notice.

What Kallen _did_ notice was C.C.'s smirk. "What?"

"Nothing, princess."

"There's a Queen Hermione in Shakespeare in this world," Kallen protested. "It has nothing to do with anything else."

"I believe you, Q1."

A fierce blush crept up Kallen's face. Why did she put up with the witch again?

"Let's just go." Kallen grabbed C.C.'s hand and pulled her toward the door.

Once they were outside, C.C. asked, "A knight? Did Nunnally make it official when I wasn't paying attention?"

"No." Strong-arming Suzaku into appointing her as Her Imperial Majesty Empress Nunnally's personal bodyguard instead of his own had been the best decision of her life post Zero Requiem, but she'd remained officially attached to the Black Knights. "You know very well Lelouch treated me as his knight of honour until he pushed me out of his life. I might not have recognised it until after the fact, but that doesn't make it any less true."

"Fair enough."

"So how are we getting to your place? By portkey?"

"Nah." C.C. walked them to the kerb and pulled out a wand. She held it up and summoned the Knight Bus.

"That works too."

* * *

After departing the Knight Bus in Ottery St Catchpole, C.C. made a hard turn off the pavement and into the woods with Kallen following at her side. As they neared the Lovegood property, she took Kallen's hand and led her across the muggle-repelling ward line.

They first paid a stop to the Rookery and the party. There they found Xeno, and C.C. handed him back his wand with her thanks for letting her borrow it.

"No problem, moonbeam."

C.C. heard Kallen snigger in revenge, but she ignored it without a care. Unlike the queen, she was not so easily flustered.

"So this is your friend, then?"

Kallen stepped forward and introduced herself. "My name is Hermione Granger. Pleased to meet you, Mr Lovegood."

"Just Xeno, please, or Xenophilius if you must." The man hummed in thought. "I don't recall the Granger family. Where did you two meet?"

"On one of our expeditions in Sussex," C.C. lied.

"Oh dear. Why don't you two go play for now, but I need to see you both before Hermione leaves."

Knowing exactly why Xeno had requested that, C.C. replied, "No need. She already knows about magic." If that knowledge hadn't exactly come legally, no mention needed to made of that little fact.

"Oh, okay then. Have fun."

C.C. nodded and pulled Kallen off by the hand while the latter said, "Thank you for having me."

With that, they disappeared before any of the Weasleys could corner them and ask where Lelouch had gone. C.C. led them down past the gargling brook and carefully through the snargaluff field back into the forest surrounding Ottery St Catchpole. Still on the property, she pushed aside some shrubbery to reveal the entrance to a cave system. Xeno had acquired a giant mole a couple years ago, but it'd escaped confinement not long after and dug its way to freedom. Or it had until the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had gotten wind of its flight.

"Don't mind the horklump. They're harmless."

Kallen quirked an eyebrow. "Horklump?" Nonetheless, she descended into the tunnel with C.C. following right behind her.

"Looks like a fungus, but they're actually animals that prey on earthworms with their muscular mycelium. The gnome infestation keeps itself mostly to the Burrow next door, but you may run into one or two eating the horklump. Just kick them out of the way if they bother you."

"Right…"

The short trip through the tunnels went without incident until they came to the giant mole's nest. Pandora had jumped at the chance to break reality when C.C. had asked her to reinforce and expand the space inside. Instead of a little, spacious hole underground, they walked into a comfortable living space complete with both shag carpeting and a tasteful floral wallpaper. It was a bit bare in furnishings at the moment, but it would serve well as a secret meeting place in the future.

In the midst of it all sat Lelouch. His head snapped up from his book when he heard them enter, the eager anticipation for reunion so plainly written on his face. "Kallen?" The girl in question nodded with a voiceless reply as she rushed forward. He stood and waited for her to come to him, arms extended in invitation.

Kallen punched him in the face. Lelouch fell heavily onto his seat under the blow. C.C. just laughed.

"That's for the Zero Requiem, you bastard. You of all people should know how fucking traumatic that front row seat was for me, let alone your sister."

A groan emanated from the lump in the otherwise fluffy armchair. "I suppose I deserved that."

"You're getting off lightly." Kallen straddled Lelouch on the chair. Once she had him pinned in one place, she cupped his uninjured cheek with a hand and leaned forward. When they separated mere seconds later, warm smiles decorated both of their faces. "Kallen Kōzuki reporting for duty, Your Majesty."

"Welcome back, Q1. I've missed you."

"I've missed you too." Kallen cuddled into Lelouch as she sighed the words and he wrapped his arms around her.

C.C. moved to catch Kallen's attention. She smirked and nodded at Lelouch. From the way Kallen's eyes lit up in amusement, she assumed her meaning got across and so made a show of clearing her throat.

"Ah." Lelouch started at the reminder of the third presence in the room. "Kallen, there's something you should know."

With well feigned worry underlying her voice, Kallen asked, "What is it?"

"Please don't mistake me for my father, but I ran into C.C. first entirely by accident, and we had a…discussion."

Kallen pulled back. "What kind of discussion?" she asked in a small voice. That girl was far too good at playing innocent.

In answer, C.C. approached Lelouch from behind and leaned her head against his. Her arm wrapped around his neck down onto his chest and pulled him closer. "I've already claimed your man. That kind of discussion."

"No!" Kallen cried. "Lelouch, why? I – I thought–"

Lelouch growled in frustration and removed C.C.'s arm from him. "Must you antagonise Kallen at _every_ opportunity?"

"Yes," C.C. stated plainly. Then having had her fun, she dropped the bomb. "She gets off on it."

"What?"

Simultaneously, Kallen sat bolt upright and said, "I do not!"

"Oh? I seem to remember our little games getting you all hot and bothered. I'd trick you into embarrassing yourself. You'd get upset. We'd banter back and forth a bit. You'd lose. Then we'd invariably end up in bed together. With me on top, of course."

Kallen cracked her knuckles slowly, warningly, with a dangerous smile on her face. "Oh Lelouch, it's terrible. C.C. has gone senile in her old age."

"In case you haven't noticed, you're the oldest one here."

"You wanna run that by me again, Obā-san?"

"Ladies, enough," Lelouch said. Reluctantly, C.C. relented and Kallen backed down. "Explain."

Kallen let out an exasperated sigh and spoke first. "C.C. and I met up on the first anniversary of your death to mourn together. We ended up four sheets to the wind and woke up in the same bed the next morning starkers and smelling of sex. I reached for the brain bleach, which might not have been the best response to the situation, but whatever. It happened again that night.

"It wasn't exactly a healthy relationship we fell into. C.C. would wander off for a while and show back up unannounced after a few weeks. Sometimes alcohol got involved. Sometimes it didn't. Then she'd wander off again and repeat the whole cycle. We've agreed to try a healthier approach this time with you."

After a few moments spent processing the admission, Lelouch said, "I confess this is…unexpected."

"I did write _our_ witch in the dedication, you know."

"You did," Lelouch acknowledged. "But this isn't the conclusion my mind leapt to. I'd much sooner expect you two at each other's throat."

"There was plenty of that as well," C.C. commented saucily. "I can't tell you how many times she's shot me after I informed her exactly how immortal I was."

"Zero! Zero times! Will you stop lying to our…" Kallen glanced down at Lelouch.

"Whatever you wish," Lelouch said in answer to the silent question. "I've learnt the value of what I had within reach while in this world, so I'm well and truly committed."

_Oh-ho. How bold._

Kallen flushed and stammered for a bit before descending into incoherent mumbles.

"How about 'lover'?" Lelouch suggested. "It's gender neutral, and there's nowhere in this world with the legal structure to suit our needs anyway."

"The queen could have used that heads up about an hour ago," C.C. commented.

Lelouch quirked an eyebrow at the girl still sitting astride his lap.

"My mother and I may have embarrassed ourselves with some contrasting assumptions about how marriage works. Not that our witch was of any help."

C.C. halfheartedly raised her hands in protestation of her innocence. "I'm a stranger in a strange land just like you."

With an intense frown, Kallen leaned in to whisper something to Lelouch. He, in turn, whispered something back, to which she said, "I knew it! That book didn't exist in our world!"

_Book?_ "What are you talking about? It's a biblical reference, you uncultured, godless Brits."

The two children who'd been raised long after Britannia's split from Christianity exchanged looks, and then both burst into laughter. After a little while, even C.C. couldn't resist a small smile. She might not quite understand the joke, but she had people to laugh with again. That alone was worth more than any treasure.

* * *

"It's a biblical reference, you uncultured, godless Brits."

Lelouch exchanged a look with Kallen. C.C. wasn't wrong in any respect, he was sure, but coming from her of all people, well, he couldn't help but laugh. Kallen joined him. She knew more than enough about C.C.'s past and 'God' for the absurdity of the situation to fully hit her.

As he calmed, Lelouch said, "It looks like each of us has embarked on a different cultural journey while here. We're going to need to spend a considerable amount of time swapping notes."

C.C. didn't really care that much, Lelouch knew, but the weight of numbers would be against her. Kallen muttered something under her breath and gave him a firm nod that shook her hair – her long, wavy brown hair. That would take some getting used to, especially with him and C.C. both in their natural colours and preferred styles. He made a mental note to have a private word with her later to see if she held any interest in colour changing charms. Such should not attract any untoward attention in the nonmagical world.

But on the subject of the nonmagical, Lelouch had something to address. Kallen had helped him with his familial problems. Now it was time to return the favour. "Before I forget, are things going well for you at home?" He assumed she had a comfortable life here, but he had to be sure.

A brief frown turned into a wide smile as Kallen nodded. "Mum and Dad are wonderful. I've told them _almost_ everything. We have some cultural issues to work out between us from time to time, but Grangers have better communication skills by far than either Stadtfelds or Kōzuki." Her gaze fell. "All of us do."

Lelouch took both of Kallen's hands in his own. She looked up, and the self-recrimination fell from her face. "I'm happy for you." He'd lost his own second chance to a maniac, and C.C. simply didn't care, but at least one of them had a fresh start. Probably the one who actually deserved it, if he were being honest.

Kallen gave him a chaste kiss for the words.

"Well then, now that we're all caught up, shall we get down to business?"

It was promptly agreed. They relocated to the circular table in the room. Once seated about it, they each took a stack of paper and a pen for any necessary note taking and list making. Lelouch then started them off.

"I've updated both of you individually on most of my life here already. Kallen dealt with the elder Dursleys for me. Thank you for that."

"It was a pleasure."

"I'm sure," Lelouch said. He understood the feeling perfectly well. "Unfortunately, the Ministry for Magic has seen fit to place Dudley with me. I'm unsure as to why, but I assume it has something to do with some magical property of our close blood relation." Between the culture and the magic system, he considered that a fair guess. "Regardless, the Weasleys don't tolerate his behaviour, so I'm inclined to let that situation resolve itself on its own.

"On another note, I have a small fortune waiting for me when I come of age and an absurd amount of undue fame that we can turn to our advantage. Once we determine what we wish to do, that is.

"Lastly, the magical world appears to value bloodlines as much as or more than Britannia. We need to determine what marital pressures can be put on us and resolve them before they become a problem if we can. In particular, Ginny Weasley is very taken with me."

Kallen made a show of writing down, 'Stake Claim,' and then underlining it three times with aplomb.

Perhaps not too surprisingly coming from a woman who'd lived in the shadows most of her life, C.C. said, "Kallen can be the official wife if necessary. I'm not in any danger. Xeno and Pandora are besotted with each other and want their happily ever after for me as well. They're also not vulnerable to magical subterfuge the way the Grangers are."

Through the blush spanning from her cheeks all the way down her neck, Kallen offered her thanks for the consideration.

Lelouch found nothing disagreeable with that, so he passed the baton on to C.C..

"My situation is ideal. Xeno and Pandora are both so eccentric that they don't understand that there's anything off about me. I merely don't directly challenge that belief and get on well enough with them."

"I can't imagine why." Kallen pointedly directed her gaze onto the Cheese-kun in C.C.'s lap. "It's not like you have an eccentric indulgence of your own or something."

"Hmph." Hugging her plushie closer, C.C. continued, "I also have some good news, bad news. The good news is I've discovered the source of magic in this world."

Lelouch's eyes widened in equal measure with amusement and dread. Of course she would just announce something that, as far as he knew from his short exposure, had baffled scholars for centuries so casually. But if that was the _good_ news…

"The bad news is magic isn't real. Someone reversed all the Thought Elevators' functionality, probably gene-locked their use somehow, and sealed them away. Our beliefs affect the world around us, which is why intent matters with magic. The closer you are to a Thought Elevator, the more pronounced the effects of C's World on reality."

Kallen slowly broke from her shock as she asked, "So you're saying that if someone turned the Thought Elevators off–"

"–it would be a disaster resulting in millions of casualties and orders of magnitude more lifeforms poofing out of existence," C.C. finished. "Yes."

"On the other hand," Lelouch mused, "if someone removed the gene-lock, anyone could use magic." That might be an interesting cause to pursue. It'd have to be done carefully, however, to avoid plunging the world into chaos.

Having overheard him, C.C. said, "I will warn you in advance. I have absolutely no idea how one would go about manipulating the Thought Elevators like that. Your mother or father might have, but they spent decades tinkering with them."

Lelouch nodded in acknowledgement. They certainly had the time if they chose to pursue that goal but would have to weigh it against other opportunities.

"I have nothing else. Kallen?"

The girl in question straightened in her chair and wore a pleased smile. "I've been busy since Lelouch first contacted me." She untied a small leather bag from the waist of her jeans and placed it onto the table. She reached a hand inside of it and began pulling out book after book to both Lelouch's and C.C.'s great surprise. "I found my way to Diagon Alley. I've been devouring knowledge ever since." She at last stopped and set to straightening her piles.

"This isn't a comprehensive collection of all mind magics, but it's enough to hold us over for years. I also have here the full, current legal code of Magical Britain. This is a muggleborn encyclopedia. This one is an introductory book. This covers a number of useful potions and hundreds more of lesser interest. Basic combat. First aid. Uh… Oh! This is the history book. I've modified all the covers, you see, in case I had the opportunity to pass them off to Lelouch. These are his copies. It wouldn't do for his gaoler to think he's getting ideas above his station, after all, but we can just start a library here and use more temporary measures in the future."

Finally, Kallen stopped to take a breath long after she should have suffered from asphyxiation and looked up. "What?"

"You are absolutely brilliant."

Kallen blushed at the praise.

"You swot," C.C. teased. "An author, and now this? How bookish you've become in this world."

"Well what was I supposed to do with my time? There's barely Internet. I can't connect with children my age. I could ace my A-levels right now if I wanted. I'm too young for most things. And I can only play _Super Mario Bros_ so many times."

Lelouch felt his eyebrows rise as he turned from the treasure trove on the table before him back to Kallen. "You play videogames?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Just surprised. I used to play a lot at Aries Villa. Mostly with Milly." Those were simpler times. Even with the revelation of what his mother had been up to, Lelouch still looked back on his childhood fondly. "Do the _Zelda_ titles exist here?"

What defensiveness had been in Kallen's voice faded away. "Only the first two are out yet."

"What a shame. We'll have to play together sometime."

"I'm game. C.C.?"

The witch had tuned them out. When called upon, she looked up from the book she'd pulled from one of the piles and said, "Not my thing."

Lelouch turned his attention back to the mountain of books before him. His eyes fell onto the one Kallen had identified as filled with first aid magic. "Do you know if there's a spell in there we could cast or a potion I could drink to heal my face?"

With a sigh and a few muttered words, Kallen pulled the book from the stack. She set it in front of her and paged through it until she found the right spell. "Seems easy enough. Broken bones and bruises aren't that hard to set right, although I'd feel better if we started with a diagnostic to ensure we don't do anything wrong or miss something." She flipped to an entirely different section of the book and began reading.

A few minutes later, Kallen reached into her bag again and withdrew a nearly white wand with just a hint of red to give it a pink glow. It had no handle but was wreathed in ornamental flames with scales at the base. It fit her perfectly and looked positively draconic.

Lelouch allowed himself some light laughter. "Is there _anything_ you don't have in that bag of yours?"

"Plenty. My potions lab is at home. Now hold still for a moment."

And then Kallen proceeded to cast a series of diagnostic spells.

Lelouch blinked. No, he'd not imagined it.

Across the table, C.C.'s book lay forgotten in her hands.

"It looks like you only have some bruising. And swelling, of course. Nothing fractured. I didn't think I hit you that hard, but better to know than assume." Kallen turned back to the actual healing spells. "It says here that if you feel like you have ants crawling out of your eyes, you should tell me immediately. And then I guess we'll go from there."

"What! I don't–"

Kallen rolled her eyes and cast the spell. The affected area burned hot for a few alarming moments before settling down. Lelouch experimentally reached up and pressed a hand against his cheek. It felt, to his great relief, both uninjured and normal to the touch.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." Kallen stowed her wand away and replaced the book upon its stack.

The other member of their trio wore an amused smirk. "Don't tell me you actually believed that part about the ants."

If perhaps he had, even for just a moment, Lelouch wasn't about to admit it. "Nonsense."

"So what is our plan for now?" Kallen asked. "As an addendum, I will mention that I'm very comfortably wealthy _now_, so we're not short of pounds sterling."

While there was the larger looming question of what goals they wished to pursue long term, the immediate future seemed clear. "Keep our heads down, find our footing, learn to protect ourselves, and figure out what we want to do."

Kallen nodded. "Sounds reasonable. Personally, I'd like to install ourselves as the government."

"Easy, girl," C.C. said, amusement filling her tone. "Did you really want to be empress that badly?"

"What can I say? I'm a rebel."

A snort escaped Lelouch. "I'm sure rebelling for the sake of rebellion will strike a deep chord with this war-weary society."

"Well, I do have actual reasons, if you're into that sort of thing. C.C. may have a better perspective, having grown up in a magical household, but I've wandered around Diagon Alley as an adult long enough to pick up on a few things. This society is deeply speciesist, racist, _and_ classist. Not to mention all of its _many_ other problems."

"Did you just say 'as an adult'?"

"Focus, Pizza Girl."

While Lelouch agreed that now wasn't the time, he silently made a note to revisit that temptation at a later date.

"So yes, I want to tear down this travesty of a government and build something better in its place. If that ultimately requires me to become Queen Hermione, so be it. I don't have a problem with monarchy. The actual mechanics of government were never why I fought against Britannia either before or after His Majesty here sunk his claws into me."

Lelouch personally had no objections. The minister herself, after all, had told him that Magical Britain's little civil war had merely suspended itself. He'd assumed he would have to step in to sort out their mess at some point if he wanted any peace and quiet. His fame and Kallen being nonmagical – or muggleborn, as it'd turned out – would demand no less.

"Do you have anything to add?" Lelouch asked C.C..

"Not really. My little slice of the magical world is not what I'd term representative. No objections, however. It doesn't matter to me what we do so long as we're together."

"Aw, that has to be the sweetest thing I've ever heard come out of your mouth."

C.C. snorted and turned her attention away from Kallen back to the book before her.

"I have little trust for the current government myself," Lelouch said. "I'm willing to support your bid for empress."

"What? But you – I thought – I mean, I don't–"

Smirking, C.C. casually commented, "Your plan, your mess."

"But Lelouch is the one with all the fame to work with!"

"So marry him and let it diffuse into you. Just imagine, they would call you the Girl-Who-Shagged."

"That is not a title I want!"

"Are you saying you _don't_ want to shag him?"

"I didn't say that."

"It's okay, Kallen. I'm flattered. Truly. But without my code, I'm not sure if I'll have the same stamina."

_Everyday is going to be like this for the rest of my life, isn't it?_ Lelouch shook his head fondly and waited out those two's tangent as Kallen dug herself deeper and deeper into a hole. The things he put up with for love.

Perhaps next time he would have popcorn at the ready.

Much later, a now thoroughly embarrassed Kallen forcibly put an end to their diversion. "The Boy-Who-Lived is a stupid epithet to begin with, so it doesn't matter. Who wants to be constantly reminded that they were the sole survivor of a terrorist attack?"

It _was_ rather uncouth when one thought about it. If Lelouch had been given more time to bond with the Potters, it would certainly grate on his nerves. He did respect their sacrifice and Lily's apparent skill with magic, but that was the limit of his emotional attachment, which was probably for the best. He had enough parental issues already.

Kallen sighed as the steam she'd built up finally left her. "Anyway, Lelouch, you're the best at speeches, administration, and such. Politics. If we're going to put a crown on anyone's head, it should be yours."

"We'll see."

In all honesty, Lelouch wasn't sure if he wanted to have that much power in his own hands again. Being master of the world had been such a pleasure while it'd lasted. It'd been _so easy_ to push his own agenda. On several occasions, he'd been sorely tempted to pull Kallen from her cell before the Zero Requiem knowing she would talk him out of it and kill everyone who had a problem with him ruling as the benevolent Emperor of Earth.

Besides, Kallen had been his original pick to step into his role as the Black Knights' leader once he eventually stepped down. He'd never intended to be Zero forever, and she, unlike him, had principles rather than pragmatism behind the rhetoric he'd sold to the world as the man of miracles. Indeed, she'd performed admirably in the disastrous circumstances he'd left her with while he'd been in the empire's custody. With a pool of capable advisers at her side and a little more work on her temper, he'd not trust anyone more with the reins of power.

It was a shame things hadn't worked out that way in the end. It'd been entirely unintentional on his end, but Lelouch had managed to mold the ideal successor out of an angry teenage terrorist lashing out at the world.

"It's not something we need to decide now," Lelouch continued. "Of more immediate importance, Kallen is hardly the girl next door. We could keep paying for the Knight Bus, but it's inconvenient, draws extra attention, and those expenses will add up. What's our solution?" He had little enough knowledge of magic, let alone magical transport, and felt the girls would better tackle the problem.

C.C. suggested that they could hook the Grangers' house into the Floo Network. While Lelouch could make assumptions about whatever that was, he discounted it as a solution when Kallen scoffed at the mere idea.

"There are all sorts of regulations against adding nonmagical homes to the Floo Network," Kallen explained. She'd already been studying law in preparation for her ascension, it seemed. "Magical society is designed to keep it apart from the nonmagical world. In the process, it does everything possible to erode the relationship between muggleborn and their families. I'll not go into detail, but you can rest assured that ease of access to the magical community is not a consideration where they are concerned."

It only truly struck Lelouch just then that Kallen was, once again, a second-class citizen. _No wonder she's already fired up to burn the government to the ground._ "What if the house was in your name?"

After an initial false start to shoot the idea down, Kallen said, "It might work, but if I bought a house, I'd just buy one nearby anyway."

"There's apparition," C.C. offered.

Kallen considered that solution wanting. "I'd prefer not to be dependent on the goodwill of others for transportation, and we're too young to cover the distance between Crawley and Devon in any reasonable amount of time ourselves. Healing Lelouch left me with almost nothing, and that was barely more than a few cantrips."

"Portkeys?"

"Regulated, recorded, and costly." A thoughtful frown settled onto Kallen's face. After a few moments to consider the matter, she said, "I'll talk to Mum and Dad about moving here once they get over the initial shock and horror of two girls kissing. I _know_ they'll want to get to know you two well and have you over often, not to mention not having me repeatedly disappearing for entire days, so I should be able to leverage that against any objections. One place needs dentists as much as the next, I'm sure. Plus the delay should give us enough time to sufficiently establish myself as Luna's friend rather than coming out of nowhere as _the_ Harry Potter's best friend." She smirked. "Maybe there should be some mutual exchange of fan mail with your favourite author?"

"Heh. I'd considered the very same course of action myself before I discovered who happened to be my neighbour. We could make a game of it."

"Sounds fun. I'm in."

And so the plan was set. They had a little less than three years of relative peace to prepare themselves. Then they would be on a collision course with the rest of the magical world when the elder two of the trio officially began their magical education.

* * *

**A/N:** On the subject of historical accuracy, I think Emma's reaction to bi/homosexuality would be on the more accepting end in 1987/88 Britain, particularly for someone who was Christian until she had magic shoved in her face. If anyone wants to correct me on that, please do. Either way, said reaction will not at all be the focus (or even in focus) of the story.

On another note, I'm tentatively going to call this the end of Year Zero. We'll jump to the summer of '91 in the next proper stage. Expect a .5 interlude stage before then wherein families collide.

* * *

Behold! A shameless self-promotion! I have a Patrreon account under the username Forthwith if you want to support my writing in general.


	7. Y0S65 - The Peaceful Years

**A/N:** Sadly, I own neither _Code Geass_ nor _Harry Potter_.

* * *

Year Zero  
Stage 06.5 - The Peaceful Years

The cultural differences between Britain and Britannia were often plain to see. For instance, one typically didn't even need to leave the house to feel the massive Roman influence on the former's architecture. Once in a while, however, Lelouch found himself blindsided with the unexpected.

Case in point, Lelouch felt Molly Weasley's silently disapproving gaze on his back, watching and waiting for him to set water on fire as he moved about the kitchen. Even in the magical world where he'd expected such things not to matter given the relative fluidity of appearance and gender, it seemed the domestic sphere primarily remained the domain of witches in the absence of a house elf. Or at least of this one witch in particular.

And it wasn't as though Molly refused to share her kitchen. She often pulled an overtly unenthusiastic Ginny in to assist despite Lelouch offering his far and away more capable services in her place. Indeed, at this point, it was an open secret amongst the children that Lelouch had made a deal with her under the table for her, when possible, to vanish and leave him to assume her kitchen duties while she did his chores in exchange.

With the rather extensive recipe book in Lelouch's head, including several dishes that simply did not exist in this world prior to his arrival, the agreement worked well for the entire family. Molly was a brilliant chef – a shock of its own as no other woman in his life sans Sayoko possessed _any_ such skill – but she did tend to stick to English creations. He, on the other hand, took inspiration from around the world.

As Lelouch carefully measured each ingredient to three significant digits – accept no less; cooking was a science, not an art – the sound of footsteps in the snow approached through the kitchen's open corner window. Soon enough, the dual thumps of small feet hitting the little wooden box below it against the exterior wall brought them to an end. A notably still brunette Kallen stuck her head into the room. The magical warmth of the kitchen stood in stark contrast to the heavy, enchanted robes she wore to fend off the February chill. "Hello, Harry. Mrs Weasley."

"Good morning, dear," the latter replied. "Would you care to come inside?"

"Thank you, but no. I'm just running messages for the birthday girl. How long until her pudding is done?"

"A little longer each time she sends you to ask," Lelouch stated dryly. Honestly, C.C.'s addiction to pudding in this world with her new body was as bad as her obsession with pizza had been in the last. Not that the latter had abated any, unfortunately. At least she'd not yet demanded that he attempt to combine the two for her. "Unless she doesn't want me to magic it done faster anymore, tell her I'll bring it over in an hour."

Kallen offered a mock salute far removed from those she once gave as a Black Knight. "Roger that. I'll let her know. If I don't come back before she sends me out for another update, assume her answer is the sooner the better."

"Obviously," Lelouch muttered with a roll of his eyes as Kallen departed.

"Such a nice girl," Molly commented, knowing Kallen only distantly as C.C.'s friend who'd moved into the neighbourhood not too long ago. "What was her name again?"

Although all part of the plan, Lelouch had to admit he found amusement in playing up Kallen's own fame. He watched Molly's bemused expression from the corner of his eye as he, the Boy-Who-Lived, replied, "Hermione Jean Granger, author of a modern classic and my most favourite book ever! I still can't believe she moved here. And she's a muggleborn witch, too! I hope we can be friends…" Perhaps he'd laid it on a bit thick, but it'd achieved the desired effect nonetheless.

"I'm sure she'll love you. Just tell her you'd like to be her friend and don't badger her with too many questions about that book of hers."

"You mean like everyone does for me?" Lelouch snarked back.

"Yes," Molly said. "Don't do that."

_Not horrible advice for a child,_ Lelouch considered, _but perhaps not nuanced enough in this case. She's not much for strutting or bragging, but Kallen absorbs any acknowledgement she feels she's earned like a sponge._ A fond smile grew on his face as he worked and became lost in memories.

* * *

Both elder Grangers had been somewhat wary when their daughter had stated her intention to build a house from scratch, especially with the understanding that the entire family would be living in it for the foreseeable future. But happily, their concern had not been necessary. Hermione, while no expert in architecture, had managed to convey her vision well enough for a professional to bring it to life.

The main structure possessed – in Hermione's own words – a late nineteenth century Britannian style blended remarkably well with more traditional Japanese elements. Dan didn't know much about the subject himself, but he easily recognised the hardwood floors, sliding doors, and exposed corridors as distinctly belonging to the latter category. She'd gotten some pushback over those from the architect given England's climate, but she'd waved the concerns away to shrugs and acknowledgements that 'it was her money'. Magic, after all, would keep the winter frost and summer heat at bay while waterproofing everything.

Perhaps the most interesting aspect of the structure, however, was that more than half of it extended over a four acre pond. Most of the bedrooms had their own separate islands out on the water connected by a series of winding corridors with roofs but without railing or walls and a few short ladders leading down into the water. Dan had noted a nostalgic glint in Hermione's eyes when she'd first seen the finished product, but he'd refrained from enquiring. If she wished to share, she would. Besides, he had a fair idea of what it meant to her.

Dan sat just outside his own bedroom with his feet dipped into the pond, idly swinging them back and forth. Despite the mid-spring weather, the water possessed a relaxing warmth. He hadn't known how to feel about the heavily artificial climate at first, but it'd quickly grown on him along with all the other little magical touches on the house.

It really was a lovely place to live. Dan thought he would miss the proximity to London at first, but then Hermione had introduced him to the Floo Network. It wasn't the most comfortable way to travel, but if he could teleport into the middle of London on a whim, he wouldn't complain.

Emma's distant call brought Dan out of his thoughts. Their guest for the night had arrived. Further out on the pond, he noticed Hermione exit the isolated potions lab. He chuckled as he watched her casually dash diagonally across the surface of the water, saving a scant few seconds travel time, to her own room to change out of her stained work robes. He'd been expecting it for years, but he wondered when she'd learnt that trick.

With a resigned sigh, Dan figured he should probably get up and face the inevitable. Enough time had passed – or so the children claimed – for this moment to come at last. It was time to properly meet his daughter's future husband…lover…whatever they wanted to call each other. He'd met the boy before on several occasions, of course, but always in company or in passing. Now they would have time to speak without the burden of secrecy hanging over them.

Dan rose with a grunt and then made his way back to the main building at the shoreline. Inside, while Emma placed the finishing touches on tonight's dinner, he found the boy in question in the sitting room looking at old family photos. He held one frame in his hand for a closer inspection.

"Good evening, Your Majesty," Dan said in welcome, half in jest and half out of respect. "Is it Harry still or Lelouch now?"

The boy replaced the photo onto its shelf as he returned the greeting. "Lelouch please," he said with hand extended. They shook. "You've given Kallen the happy, stable home she lost in our world, and I thank you for that, but I have little reason to identify with my life here myself."

Dan nodded at the confirmation of his expectations. Even if he hadn't had his own suspicions, Hermione spoke of the boy behind closed doors exclusively as Lelouch. Even when he'd gone into hiding from the imperial family, he'd still openly borne the name. If Dan were less aware of his unfortunate circumstances, it would have come as a surprise that he did not insist on it as a nickname even in public.

With that out of the way, Dan took in the full measure of the boy his daughter would – and indeed already had – kill for. The signs of abuse lingered on his frame, but he'd filled out significantly over the months since his liberation. For now, at least until his eyes finished developing, he favoured contacts over glasses. He dressed sharply and spoke with confidence. His hair was a study in controlled chaos roughly approximating Hermione's description of it in her book. It sat longer than most boys wore it but not nearly enough so as to seem untrimmed.

Beyond mere appearances, Lelouch certainly managed to hold an aura of authority about him despite both his age and likely his intent as well. Something about how he held himself presented the image of someone well used to giving orders and expecting them to be followed.

And speaking of which, "You've hurt my daughter," Dan put forth. It wasn't an accusation, merely a statement of fact.

Lelouch, it seemed, saw no point in denial. "I have."

"She's become a criminal for you."

A smirk emerged on Lelouch's face as an amused snort escaped him. "While I can't comment on her life as Hermione, Kallen was breaking rules long before I came along. Personally, I prefer to believe I focused her rule breaking to more productive ends."

As much as he disliked thinking about it, Dan had to give Lelouch that one. "She loves you."

"If things had been different, she would have made a splendid empress."

_Oh, bloody hell. They're already talking about marriage, aren't they?_ "What are your intentions with my daughter?" _Especially with another woman involved. With both of you._ Even half a year later, despite all the weirdness and oddities that'd entered his life, Dan had trouble adjusting to that one.

Lelouch shrugged. "We're not sure yet. Were we in Britannia, we would simply marry." Clearly knowing why Dan had really asked the question, he added, "Anything else would be independent of that."

"I see…" It wasn't as though he'd not expected it, not known it, but Dan still found it hard to process that he was speaking of marriage with any degree of genuineness with someone so young.

"If it's of any consolation, C.C. volunteered to be the mistress if one or both of us _needs_ to be married."

It was. Far more so than it really should or seemed fair from an objective point of view, but Dan made no comment on the matter. "Just don't break her heart again. I'm giving you a pass for everything you've put her through given the circumstances, but you can't maintain a successful relationship on such drama."

"I don't believe I could even if I tried. She's become adept at seeing through my lies."

Dan read between the lines and took the declaration of love for what it was. Still, he felt a bit of chastisement was in order. "I hope you're more direct with Hermione than you are with me."

Lelouch chuckled. "I attempt to be, but she tends to listen more to what I do and puzzle out why than care about what I say these days regardless."

"Ah, my condolences. That usually comes later in the relationship."

The pair shared a conspiratorial smile.

"I expect children to be put off at least until her twenties. I don't care what magic potion or charm you two pull out of some dusty old book."

Lelouch snorted. "Please. Do you want to be the one to tell her to slow down for the full duration of a pregnancy?"

_No, not at all._ However much time Hermione spent with her books or in her lab, no one would describe her as an inactive child. Asking her to sit still and stay safe for months at a time would not go over well. "Well then, welcome to the family."

"Thank you for accepting me."

As Dan led Lelouch to the dining room, he asked, "So tell me, son, how do you feel about tabletop RPGs?" With any luck, the expanded family could finally pressure Hermione into sitting down at the table.

* * *

With the last dish placed on the table for the evening, Emma fell heavily onto her seat for a short rest. Let it not be said that she couldn't cook to impress, but perhaps next time she would pass the responsibility off onto Dan. Especially so if it involved any of the Britannian recipes she'd gotten from Hermione. It might be a sampling bias – in fact, where the noble heiress, Lady Kallen, was concerned, it probably was – but the production of each was _involved_. Such were the perils of cooking for royalty.

Hermione was the first to arrive. She took one long look across the table, blinked, and then said, "Oh, wow. You really went all out."

"Thank you, Milady," Emma said from her seat with a mock curtsy. She laughed when her daughter's face twisted into a sour expression. "I thought I heard your father come in before you. Have you seen him?"

"No. I could go find him and Lelouch?"

With a wave of her hand, Emma dismissed the notion and invited Hermione to sit down. Those two would be along shortly, she was sure. "I hope I got everything right."

Hermione shrugged as she took a closer look at the evening's meal. "It looks good to me." She went so far as to steal a bite even under her mother's disapproving glare. "Tastes good, too."

"While reassuring, perhaps we can wait until everyone is present, hmm?" Emma knew without a doubt that Hermione knew proper table manners far better than she did. Now that she knew what to look for, she'd noticed little things her daughter did out of habit which could only come from years of – likely unwanted – education and expectation that she certainly hadn't provided.

It wasn't long before Dan and their guest appeared. The former, it seemed, was in the midst of a recruitment pitch for a family campaign. Knowing Hermione as she did, Emma stepped in before her daughter could comment and ruin the attempt. The four of them were seated in good order, and the meal began shortly thereafter.

After Lelouch's hesitant first bite, Emma thought she'd made some faux pas with tonight's dinner. The moment passed, however, as a nostalgic look emerged upon his face. His eyes briefly met Hermione's as some silent – possibly telepathic – message flashed between them. "This is very impressive, Emma. I _know_ Kallen doesn't know the recipes well enough to reproduce them with such accuracy. Or skill."

Emma offered her thanks for the compliment.

Hermione, meanwhile, with all her precocious maturity, stuck her tongue out at Lelouch. "This is what I have you for. All that doting on Nunnally has to have had _some_ use."

"Oh?" Lelouch replied with a knowing smirk. "Now I'm worried about her. From what I've heard, a certain someone practically adopted my sister in my absence. This person even went to rather extreme lengths at times to look after her."

"Well, what else was I going to do?" Hermione said, her tone more reprimanding than defensive or embarrassed. "You left the other half of your legacy to Suzaku of all people."

There was something not being aired between the children, Emma knew, and Lelouch acknowledged whatever it was with a contrite nod to which he received a half-apologetic smile in return. The two spoke no more on the subject as they apparently either intended to resolve the matter later or already had. While she couldn't say she was thrilled to know those two weren't the perfect couple in absolute harmony with each other, the impossible dream every parent wished for their child, it was nice to see that they knew how to admit fault and resolve their differences. She'd honestly been a little worried on that front given how their past power dynamics still coloured their interactions.

"Speaking of legacies," Dan said, "do you have any idea yet what you're hoping to do with your life here?" With a nod toward the girl in question, he added, "Hermione has mentioned wanting to involve herself in magical politics."

Lelouch took a few moments to consider the question, idly taking small bites of his meal as he turned it about in his head. "I've given some thought to becoming a healer."

"Really?" In all honesty, Emma hadn't expected that answer. She'd never gotten the impression that Lelouch particularly cared about anyone beyond his immediate circle of friends and family. People as a whole, perhaps, but not individuals as such. "Dan and I can recommend the profession, of course, but why healing?"

"At first it sounded both rewarding and relaxing."

Together with her husband, Emma arched her eyebrows sceptically at the latter assertion.

"Relatively speaking," Lelouch amended. "It is…tiresome to have the weight of the world on your shoulders. To have to shed more and more blood to ensure the sacrifices already made were not in vain."

Emma's worried eye turned briefly toward Hermione whose face betrayed her own deep understanding of Lelouch's words.

"It's a pleasant thought to save lives instead of taking them. But now that I've had more exposure to the magical world, I consider it a necessity." Lelouch paused for a moment and then chuckled. "It's something I believe you would understand. This country is in a tenuous peace. I'm yet uncertain how long it will last, but when it breaks, we will be obvious targets. Kallen's talents lie more in the martial while C.C. excels at tradecraft. I want a dedicated healer in our inner circle, and no offence intended, but I don't believe two dentists will be enough."

While Emma was less than thrilled with the reasoning, it was a prudent course of action. Those same thoughts had been creeping about in the back of her own mind. She'd considered leaving the country for safer shores but had never given voice to the idea. Even if she got her way, it would undoubtedly alienate her from her daughter.

Meanwhile, Dan caught on to Lelouch's meaning and made his own attempt at keeping the mood light. "A warrior, a rogue, and a cleric all multiclassed into wizard, eh? Not the worst party composition I've ever heard."

Hermione shook her head, rolled her eyes, and muttered something in Britannian English she probably needed to be scolded for.

"If nothing else, we should be able to keep ourselves alive."

"It'll be good not to have to outsource our regular potion and enchantment checks and such, too," Hermione added. "Some of the things _I've_ been casually brewing are terrifying if misused."

Lelouch nodded along with Dan in echo to Emma's own agreement. She truly didn't understand why, for example, truth serum was heavily regulated while any rapist could legally brew up a love potion and memory charm the victim with consent after the fact.

"Anyway, Aunt Andromeda has been giving me some reading material after I expressed interest. I have a pre-apprenticeship of sorts with her." After a few moments, Lelouch seemed to remember something. "Of course, the aspiring Witch Queen will have my full supp – ow!"

Despite Hermione's innocent look, Emma caught the telltale sign of her putting her wand away. That expression didn't last long, however, before she began to fidget and squirm in place. She broke within seconds, openly removing her wand from storage. After several botched attempts which bursts of increasingly uncontrolled laughter interrupted, she successfully cast a counterspell on herself. Once done, she leaned forward heavily onto her elbows to catch her breath. "When did you get a wand?" she asked.

"This morning, actually. C.C. and I snuck off to Diagon Alley for a bit of shopping and scheming."

Hermione clicked her tongue. "Figures. She's corrupting you, you know."

Lelouch merely shrugged.

"Well? What did you end up with?"

A snort met the question. "See for yourself." Lelouch held his wand up in the palm of his hand. With a swish and a flick, it flew across the table to Hermione's waiting grasp.

Emma cleared her throat to get the children's attention. "Hermione already knows this" – she directed a reproving look at her daughter, who shrank under the reminder – "but please no magic at the table." Emma still vividly remembered the last mess when Hermione had gotten careless. And the one before that when she'd abruptly hit the limit of her young magic and passed out. At least they hadn't gotten carried away flinging cantrips at each other.

"Sorry, Mum," Hermione said in time with Lelouch's, "My apologies."

"No harm done." Emma would let Hermione off the hook this time. Besides, she was curious as well. "So?" She nodded toward the wand.

Hermione took up the task immediately and set to her examination. "Hmm… A little longer then my own. Eleven inches, I'd guess. Supple. Is this holly?" Once she received a nod, she asked, "I thought you settled your daddy issues."

There was, without a doubt, some context Emma was missing to understand that remark. Glancing across the table, she saw Dan was just as confused.

Meanwhile, Lelouch blew out a puff of air. "Now who's channelling the witch?" He shook his head. "It's the phoenix feather core which is of principle interest. There are only two of its kind. That–" He nodded toward the wand. "–and Voldemort's."

"Oh," came Hermione's succinct response. "That _cannot_ be coincidence."

Something niggled at the back of Emma's mind, but Dan got to it before she did. "Wasn't there something about a prophecy?"

"Voldemort mentioned it when he came to kill me," Lelouch replied with a casualness that would have worried Emma had she not known so much about his background. "I've yet to investigate further, but I imagine it remains unfulfilled. Even if he's dead" – he made air quotes with his fingers – "I know the local magic system supports ghosts, ghouls, zombies, and vampires at the very least."

"Twenty quid he's a lich."

"Dan!"

"What?" the man in question said. "It would explain his disappearance if he needs time to respawn from his phylactery."

Emma pinched the bridge of her nose.

Hermione, of course, was no help. "My money is on 'injured but recovering'. No one ever found a body."

"Personally," Lelouch began now that it was his turn, "I suspect he's fully dead but waiting for one of his fanatics to revive him."

The entire table turned as one to Emma. She sighed. "Oh, very well." After giving the matter some thought, she made her own wager. "Other."

"What?" Hermione said. "You can't do that!"

Dan just laughed.

"I have no objections."

"Thank you, dear," Emma said to Lelouch.

Hermione shot some playful accusation across the table in Britannian English. While Emma was starting to pick up some of the language from the frequent exposure, she had no idea what to make of the words beyond their tone. Lelouch, in turn, merely smirked back and returned his attention to his meal.

"You know," Dan began thoughtfully, "I recall you mentioning something about scheming while in Diagon Alley. What was that about?"

"Ah, yes. It could come to nothing, but it cost me almost nothing to attempt."

* * *

Draco collapsed onto his bed glad that the day was finally over. First, his tutors had kept him busy all morning. Then there'd been that dreadfully formal and entirely pointless lunch with the Greengrasses. Daphne hated him. He knew without a doubt she would murder him rather than abide by a betrothal. Besides, even he could see that they weren't even interested in a more tenuous political alliance.

And then, oh, and then there had been the outing to Diagon Alley. He'd ended up trapped – trapped! – in a room with the Lovegood girl while his father conducted business. He didn't even understand what she'd been doing there! She'd just come out of nowhere without any sign of parental supervision. She could have at least had the decency to ramble about stuff no one cared about like the rest of her family. But no! Instead she'd just stared at him as though she were a master legilimens waltzing unnoticed past his occlumency.

Draco shook himself of the memory. It didn't do to dwell on such things.

Time passed as Draco drifted in and out of consciousness. His waking thoughts skipped from one subject to the next without rhyme or reason as he waited for his mother to arrive. If he played his cards right, he could get her to read him a story. Oh, she would know what he was doing, of course. His mother was as shrewd as they came. She literally wouldn't be his mother if she weren't. But it was a family thing.

Eventually, Draco figured something was holding up his mother. It wasn't that uncommon, especially after they'd had guests in the manor. He reluctantly readied himself for bed on his own. It was only when he emptied the bottomless pockets of his robe when he noticed that someone had slipped something inside them.

It was a shrunken stack of books wrapped in twine with a bow on top. A tag was attached, one just large enough to be legible when held close. Draco squinted and read the inscription.

'Having only recently discovered your existence, I believe this covers all of the birthdays I've missed. The one on top is my favourite.'

It was signed 'Cousin Harry'. Draco's eyes widened. He had to read that again, and even then he didn't quite believe it. He'd been told Potter went to those filthy Weasleys. How by Merlin's saggy left sock had his cousin gotten this package into his pocket? What did it even mean? Was this a cry for help? Not that living with the Weasleys wasn't worth a cry for help, but he would have thought–

_Wait… The Lovegoods live next to the Weasels, don't they? _It _had_ to have been the Lovegood girl who'd passed along this…gift? It _was_ a gift, right?

Now more curious, Draco called a house elf to unshrink the books for him. It verified that there weren't any other magics on the stack and then left with the wrapping when dismissed. With that out of the way, he picked up the top book, apparently his cousin's favourite, and studied the cover.

Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion_? Never heard of it. Who wrote this? H Granger?_ The name sounded familiar, but Draco had no idea where he'd heard it before. It certainly wasn't a prominent one in modern Britain, at any rate. He cracked the book open and flipped through the boring editorial stuff until his eyes landed on a defaced page. There beneath the rather odd dedication about emperors and witches, he found a handwritten note addressed to him.

'Heir Malfoy, given what I know of your father's politics, I suspect your education pertaining to the nonmagical world will be inadequate to fully understand the material presented. I encourage you to read on nonetheless. If you have any questions, I'll be happy to answer them for you. If you wish to send any letters to Harry, please address them to either myself or L.L. (Luna Lovegood's preferred name if you're unaware). We'll ensure they're delivered discreetly.'

It was signed simply as, 'Hermione Granger' in an elegant, flowing script. A frown emerged upon Draco's face. He wasn't sure what to make of all this. At first glance, it seemed like a clumsy attempt to turn him into a blood traitor. The author certainly sounded like one, and Potter _had_ spent his entire life amongst them and muggles.

But then Potter _must_ have leveraged his fame to get the author on board with whatever this was. The required a minimum level of rhetorical competence. Surely he knew Draco would see through such a thinly veiled attempt. And a Lovegood was involved. That automatically added a certain level of unpredictability. There must be something more.

Draco turned to the proper start of the story and began reading the first chapter entitled 'The Day the Demon Was Born'.

* * *

Life proceeded as it ever did.

Lelouch occupied himself these days mostly with his pseudo-apprenticeship under Andromeda Tonks and learning more about the world they'd been reborn into. He passed along anything he felt important and made what connections he could, but there was only so much he could do while tethered to the Weasleys without making waves.

Meanwhile, as expected, Kallen loathed being anything less than the most dangerous living being on the planet and so threw herself into her studies. She didn't have the raw magical power to fight an adult on even footing or even the prerequisite breadth of knowledge, but she would, without question, tear through anyone her own age by this point. C.C. gave her about a decade before her surprising patience with the magical world's discrimination snapped and she started her revolution.

As for C.C. herself, she had centuries of alternate history literary works to serve as a distraction whenever she couldn't convince Kallen to cough up two or three ageing potions. She'd been a code bearer for six centuries and thus possessed more than enough experience with C's World to get by. Magic came easily to her. She picked up what she needed when she needed it and laughed at the frustrated looks Kallen sent her in return.

Speaking of whom, C.C. spotted a large bird approaching through the Rookery's open window. The massive eagle owl, as it turned out, landed next to Kallen on the table she was working at and offered the letter tied to its leg to her.

"Is that mail for me?" Lelouch asked.

After a brief glance at the address, Kallen opened the envelope. "Surprisingly, no. It _is_ from the little dragon, though."

C.C. quietly hummed in interest to herself and set her book down. This could be very boring, or it could be amazing. As she watched Kallen read, she became sure of the latter.

Within a few seconds, Kallen adopted a growing frown. Less than a minute in, she was pinching the bridge of her nose. By the time she finished, she'd facepalmed no less than three times. "Thanks for massacring the Geass Order and flinging imperios everywhere, Lelouch."

"What?"

"Your cousin loves my book. He thinks your biography is an excellent metaphor for the dangers muggleborn – not the word he used, mind – represent to both the magical community and themselves."

And that was better than anything C.C. had expected. She burst out laughing and ignored the glares both of her lovers sent her.

"The worst part is," Kallen continued, "that's not exactly an incorrect reading." She sent Lelouch a reprimanding look.

He, in turn, snorted and feigned returning to his own reading. "Write back and tell him that, then."

"I'm bloody well not going to encourage his racism."

"Take the opportunity to argue for educational reform. As I understand it, everyone raised in the nonmagical world is offered little to no instruction outside of a brief seven year stint on how to perform magic."

Kallen considered that with a thoughtful expression. As she did, C.C. said, "And why should he not advocate for his father's favoured position of kicking them out in return?"

"Increased population. Larger workforce. A bigger power base. Or rather a largely untapped power base. So on and so forth. Just keep your audience's age in mind."

"Hmm, it really would be better if you wrote that letter," Kallen said.

"Perhaps," Lelouch replied, "but you need the experience. We can't have our future empress–"

Without warning, the Rookery shook. The wards flared in power, determined to keep the structure intact. Everything went plaid, shifting between colours and patterns several times before the experience ended with the odd sound of shattering space. It was, in C.C.'s opinion, much akin to the noise a blueberry made when it exploded.

Just another day in the Lovegoods' home.

"Your family is weird," Lelouch commented for not the first time.

C.C. shrugged and went back to reading.

"That seemed more…egregious than usual," Kallen said. "Should we check on Pandora?"

"I'm sure she's fine," C.C. distractedly replied. She'd been through plenty of Pandora's attempts to break reality, and they'd all turned out well in the end.

That didn't satisfy Kallen. "I'm going to go see if she needs any help."

"Mhm."

Like most of the Rookery, the library was enchanted to be bigger than the space which contained it. C.C. had never felt the need to explore too far, as the books tended to repeat themselves before too long, but she'd heard that it went on forever downward in a spiral off to infinity. Kallen left her work behind and made the climb to the nearest exit a little under two rotations above them.

A page and a half of reading later, the library door slammed open. "Harry! I need you in Pandora's lab!"

The boy in question dropped his book and ran out of the library with all of the urgency in that cry for help. Curious, C.C. followed after him at a more sedate pace. She left the library and then followed the spiral staircase down to the Rookery's highest floor. Down the corridor, she peered into the lab through the wide open door.

The scene that met her was, in a word, messy. Pieces of Pandora were strewn over the entire lab. From the whimpers and the twitching of the muscles, C.C. deduced that the pieces were all still _attached_ in some discontinuous sense, but several small pools of blood had also begun to collect. Some part of Pandora was bleeding, although she couldn't say which with any certainty.

"Found it," Kallen said. She pulled a vial from the pouch hanging from her jeans and handed it over to Lelouch. "What next?"

As Lelouch poured the vial's contents, a dark red viscous fluid that C.C. assumed was a blood-replenishing potion, into Pandora's mouth, he replied, "Dittany."

Kallen had it out of her pouch in short order.

"Find the parts of her that are bleeding. I'll keep her topped up on blood, but we need to heal the wounds before we can floo her to St Mungo's." Kallen immediately went to work, and Lelouch turned to C.C.. "Unless you know how to add someone to the wards to let healers Floo in?"

C.C. shook her head.

"Hermione?"

"The Rookery's ward stone hurts to look at. It'd be a different story if this were my place, but that's a long walk."

Lelouch clicked his tongue. His gaze turned to Pandora. After a moment of thought, he asked, "I don't suppose you can hear us?"

"Don't bother," came the strained voice of Pandora.

A few minutes later, Kallen declared all wounds to be sealed. Lelouch eased up on the potion. And now they had the unenviable task of actually transporting all of the pieces of Pandora to the hospital. Not wanting to go through the bother, C.C. emptied the contents of a nearby trunk onto the floor. She then put the container in the middle of the room and cast a useful spell she'd learnt from all of the trips around the world Xeno had taken her on.

"Pack."

With the proper intent, every piece of Pandora flew into the trunk in an orderly fashion except the mouth. Lelouch still had ahold of that so she could breathe freely. Once he confirmed that it should be 'safe enough', Kallen added a feather-light charm to the trunk. After that, those two shuffled Pandora off to St Mungo's Hospital and left C.C. behind in their rush.

Figuring that they had everything under control, C.C. made her way back into the library where she recovered her book. She debated following after them but ultimately decided against it. She didn't do distraught very well and didn't need anyone asking why she wasn't a mess. Besides, she refused to have calming draughts or whatever the hospital's healers would think she needed shoved down her throat.

* * *

It was a few hours later when Kallen returned to the Rookery. Reclined on a couch in the library, C.C. heard the heavy footfalls first as they spiralled downward. Then, surprisingly, Kallen ripped her book right from her hands. She protested, but Kallen ignored her.

"Where the fuck have you been?"

"Here," C.C. replied flatly. Where else would she have been?

Kallen opened her mouth. By her visage, a familiar one from whenever C.C. _really_ pissed her off, she was about to set in on one of her rants about something C.C. really couldn't care less about. However, she appeared to realise this at the last moment and instead took a deep breath. She closed the book in her hands and set it aside on an end table.

"C.C., I know you don't need or want parents in your life. I respect your feelings and decision on that matter. But that doesn't change the fact that you have them. Even if your other options weren't great until Lelouch found you, you've still chosen to remain part of their lives. A fairly active part, even, given all the explorations Xeno has mentioned you leading. They've cared for you. They've provided for you. The _least_ you can do in return is _show up_ after Pandora _brushed with death_."

"Fine, fine." As she sat upright, C.C. let out an exasperated sigh. "Don't get your knickers in a twist."

Kallen visibly ground her teeth together.

"What? I'm going."

"Really? You can't think of any reason why I have a problem with ungrateful children abandoning their mother in a hospital?"

"It's not like _I_ put her there." C.C. realised as soon as she said the words that she may have stepped over a line – leapt, really – and swallowed the rest of her response.

Indeed, Kallen's voice carried a cold fury so at odds with her usual hot temper as she said, "You have no idea how much I wish you were still immortal right now."

"I never said you did." It'd been centuries since C.C. had given a heartfelt apology without evading. The words had trouble forming.

"Just go."

C.C. grasped her lover's arm and kept her from stomping off. "Kallen… That was out of line. I…apologise." The word left her with an uneasy feeling in her chest. Being emotionally invested in others was so troublesome.

Kallen blew a long puff of air out through her nose. "Just go," she said with far less bite in her tone. "I'll follow after I blow off some steam."

With a nod, C.C. released Kallen and left. Not before stealing a kiss, of course, which gave Kallen something far more benign to rage over, but she did as asked.

The Floo trip to St Mungo's was uncomfortable but quick. C.C. came out the other end on her feet midstep, unlike Lelouch who – in practice, if not in fact – was cursed to have a comical landing on every attempt without assistance.

A few questions to the front desk produced directions to Pandora's room. C.C. made the trek up the stairs to the fourth floor. Once there, she entered the Janus Thickey Ward for the Treatment of Spell Damage and easily found Pandora's room therein.

C.C. knocked on the door.

"Come in."

That was Lelouch. Once she entered, C.C. saw that Xeno hadn't arrived yet, which hardly surprised her. He would likely return home for the day before someone managed to track him down. Pandora, however, rested at ease on the room's bed with Lelouch on one of the two chairs beside it. She was once again in one piece, but the faint straight lines of her division lingered. With magic, it was very likely she'd be as good as new by this time tomorrow without any scarring.

"Hello, Moonbeam," Pandora said, which Lelouch, of course, smirked at outside her field of vision as he always did. "Are you alright after my little mishap?"

C.C. nodded as she climbed onto the seat beside Lelouch. "You?"

"A little embarrassed. I triggered a collapse cascade by spilling pumpkin juice over the runes stabilising the expanded space."

_That…would certainly be a very embarrassing way to die._

"Luckily for me," Pandora continued, "you and your friends were there." She offered a thankful nod to Lelouch. "I trust you know not to use your wands outside of the wards?"

While Lelouch wasted his time considering how to best respond to that, C.C. merely said, "They don't have the Trace on them." It was best to be forthright with Lovegoods. They cared little for anything beyond their passions, the law included, and easily became distracted.

Pandora nodded as she took the information in. "Wonderful. Just continue to be careful with them. As I've demonstrated, magic can be dangerous."

And that was done and over with, no clever manipulations or arguments needed.

Despite this, Lelouch just had to comment. "I'm surprised you're so accepting of our flouting the law. And grateful, naturally."

Pandora tilted her head to the side. "Well, it's true you don't have your OWLs yet, but that formality is a joke. I'm sure you could all get an outstanding on the muggle studies OWL."

"That's…intriguing." Through the gleam in his eyes, C.C. saw Lelouch tuck that piece of information away to pursue later. "But not what I meant. I was referring to our ages."

Pandora still looked confused. "Your magical cores _are_ still young," she said, completely missing the point, "but they're growing the more you use magic. Xeno and I haven't noticed _too much_ strain on them. Hermione would do well to pace herself more, perhaps…"

When Lelouch went to press further, C.C. elbowed him. "Let me." She turned to Pandora. "He meant that we're in violation of using underage wand-based magic outside of school."

"Oh." Pandora hummed in thought. "I'm not sure if you are. I'd have to check if the underage magic law specifies biological, chronological, or existential age."

One could hear a pin drop in the pregnant silence that followed.

"We need to be more careful when we go to Hogwarts." After the aside, Lelouch spoke to Pandora. "When did you figure us out? How?"

"Well…a year after L.L. was born? Somewhere around there. Xeno and I hadn't accidentally let something possess you, Moonbeam, so we left well enough alone. It was obvious that you were not normal, so we figured you would talk to us if you wanted to. Then when you suddenly made friends with Harry and Hermione, we more assumed than verified there."

C.C. suspected she had deeply misjudged both Xeno and Pandora. That didn't happen very often, and she didn't like the feeling. She didn't like today at all, in retrospect. At least it wasn't the usual disappointment of a contractor letting her down or betraying her.

"Have you told anyone?" Lelouch asked. A hint of dread crept into his tone, although C.C. doubted anyone else but Kallen would notice.

"No, no. But you may wish to keep Hermione's book from circulating in the magical world."

C.C. exchanged a look with Lelouch. They'd already given a copy to Draco Malfoy, and several of the Weasleys had read it as well. Moreover, most of the muggleborn they would attend Hogwarts with likely owned their own copy. The genie was well and truly out of the bottle.

"Dan and Emma know," Lelouch put forth. He then spun the same lie that Kallen had told her parents in explanation. C.C. didn't think it was really necessary anymore – and perhaps never had been – but she let him continue his weave without interruption. She hardly wanted to test the queen's patience any further today.

* * *

As the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, it fell to Minerva McGonagall to arrange for every potential student's acceptance letter to be delivered as near to their eleventh birthday as was practical. In the case of muggleborn, this additionally required a home visit to explain that the letter was not a joke and magic was, in fact, real.

Only three weeks into the new school year, Minerva was off on one such visit to one Hermione Granger. The poor girl had just barely missed the cutoff date and would have to wait until next September to begin her magical studies. Unless she declined her Hogwarts invitation and went to school which started later in the year, of course, but no one had done so in nearly half a century, not even when the child's parents and the sitting headmaster had traded spells on opposite sides of a war. Attending Hogwarts opened doors. It was as simple as that.

In fact, now that Minerva thought on it a bit more, perhaps it would be to her advantage for Miss Granger to join Hogwarts next year. Next year's batch of students would hold the heir or heiress to nearly every family of note with much of the remainder coming in the year after. One would be hard pressed to find better peers.

Minerva arrived in Hogsmeade at a relaxing amble. The break from the chaos of the castle and the hundreds of children already determined to give her migraines was refreshing, but she needed to get back to work. She raised her wand and summoned the Knight Bus. When asked her destination, she extended the letter and let the conductor read the address.

A few minutes later, Minerva stepped off the bus and took stock of where she'd ended up. The house was…not quite like anything she had ever seen before. It was a lake house. She could term it that definitively. Well, pond house, but that was splitting hairs. By its appearance, it was either new or very well maintained. Now that she had some time to take the sight in, it reminded her slightly of Mahoutokoro when she'd visited thirty…three years ago now, was it? Where had the time gone?

Regardless, Hermione Granger didn't _sound_ like a foreign name, but one never knew. The mother could be from abroad. The family could have only recently returned to their ancestral homeland. Or perhaps they just appreciated the style.

After the long walk from the kerb up the drive, Minerva knocked on the door. When that failed to elicit a response, she rang the doorbell.

"Be right there!" came the faint call of a young girl's voice – Miss Granger's, most likely.

And as promised, the door opened soon enough to reveal the voice's owner. The girl had long brown hair flowing down in waves past her shoulders until bound together at the end. Her dress was casual and more boyish than Minerva thought typical for girls of her age in the muggle world. Minerva found herself oddly reminded of Filius in how the girl held herself, but the exact reason for the comparison proved elusive.

"Good evening…"

Minerva returned the greeting and introduced herself. "My name is Professor McGonagall. Is this the Granger residence?"

"It is. Are you a recruiter, then?"

"I suppose I am." She'd never thought of her job as such, but Minerva couldn't refute the description. "Could I speak to your parents, Miss Granger?"

With a nod, Miss Granger beckoned Minerva to enter. "Shoes off, please."

Now that she was inside, Minerva noticed that she'd entered a genkan. _Well, I wasn't wrong about the Japanese influence in the building._ How interesting, especially considering the girl's distinctly European features. They'd not had a Japanese student at Hogwarts since Minerva herself had attended.

With a subtle twitch of her wand – and a slight but noticeable narrowing of Miss Granger's eyes – Minerva slipped out of her boots without untying them. She set them aside without comment and then crossed the step into the house proper when invited.

As they wandered the corridors Minerva took in the atmosphere as she was accustomed to on these first contact visits. Muggleborn were, unfortunately, more prone to abuse and negligence than those raised in magical homes due to fear or misunderstanding of their magic.

However, that did not seem to be a concern here. There were family pictures tastefully littered about the home amongst the other works of art and the foliage. The ones that featured Miss Granger had wide, genuine smiles. The girl herself also appeared healthy and well cared for. Interestingly, they walked past a display case mostly dedicated to literary awards in Miss Granger's name. Minerva mentally crossed her fingers in the hope that she would have one less student whose essays would make her want to bash her head against a wall.

"You write?"

Miss Granger nodded. "I've not had as much time for it as I used to, but I still dabble."

"What have you written about?" Minerva asked as they stepped out of the main building and onto the pathways over the water.

"Hmm… In short, an alternate history of the world from the point of view of a young man with serious daddy issues. I'm working on a prequel of sorts right now featuring his…uh, great, great, great, great, great grandmother, Empress Annwn, who'd just inherited a state recovering from the Humiliation of Edinburgh and looking to reassert its preeminence in the world."

That was far more…sophisticated, Minerva decided to put it, than she'd expected from a child. And if she remembered correctly, those writing awards had been from the _mid-eighties_ when Miss Granger would have been perhaps six years old.

"You must be a very _brave_ girl to let so many people see your work. When I was your age, my audience would have begun and ended with my parents and then only if I were feeling particularly bold that day."

Let it not be said that Minerva had ever misused her influence as a muggleborn's point of first contact. She would _never_ go out of her way to _rig_ the sorting. But where was the harm in a little subtle encouragement?

Miss Granger glanced back with a knowing smirk. "You have no idea."

Stern frown forever set in place, Minerva bit back a groan. Nothing good ever happened when a student gave her that look.

They soon approached a room with voices emanating from within. Judging by the pitches, there were two adults – the elder Grangers, presumably – along with a pair of young girls and boys.

"Wait here a moment. Mum, Dad!" Miss Granger called out as she hurried into the room. "A recruiter managed to find us."

"I suppose it was too much to ask to remain hidden forever," Mr Granger said as, oddly, Mrs Granger said, "Emergency Freeze."

There was a brief moment of quiet with only the dull roar of children to break it. Then came the sound of chairs moving. A brunette man emerged from the room a few moments later accompanied by a woman with long black hair tied up into a bun. Purely guessing on appearances, neither particularly remarkable for muggles, Minerva assumed the Japanese influences in the family came from the latter.

"Good evening, Mr Granger. Mrs Granger."

"It's Dr Granger for both of us, actually," Mr Granger said as he offered his hand for a shake. "We usually prefer just Dan and Emma when together. Less confusing that way."

"And less belittling," Emma added with a little huff. She in turn extended a hand to shake. "I can't tell you how many times people have defaulted to Dr Granger and Mrs Granger."

Minerva's frown cracked into a slight smile. Such attitudes, she understood, were far more prevalent in the muggle world than the magical one, but she'd had her own brush with them before during her tragically brief marriage. "It's a pleasure to meet you both."

"Likewise."

"Hermione mentioned you're a school recruiter?"

Minerva nodded. "But if you're entertaining company, I could return tomorrow at a more appropriate time."

"No, I don't imagine this will take long," Emma said. "Hermione also mentioned the wards–"

_Wards?_ Minerva spread her senses out and discovered that she had, to her very great surprise while not expecting them, walked over a ward line uninvited without notice and without announcing her presence. That could have been disastrous.

"–were acting up around you." Emma gestured toward the letter in Minerva's hand. "Hogwarts, right?"

"Yes, actually." Not sure how to proceed from here – even Lily Potter's family hadn't been so prepared or, shall she say, integrated upon first contact – Minerva delivered the letter. "If I may ask, how is it that you're so informed?"

Dan nodded toward the room he'd emerged from. "Xeno and Pandora's daughter and ours are friends. They met during one of Xeno's expeditions years ago. Imagine our surprise when Hermione came home one day with a new friend and proclaimed, 'I'm a witch!'"

Of all the people to introduce someone to the magical world, Minerva _would not_ have chosen the Lovegoods. She'd heard that they'd only gotten more, well, more themselves after graduating and tying the knot. "That must have been…an experience." At least things seemed to have worked out for all involved.

The couple chuckled, and Dan replied, "The Lovegoods _did_ take a little getting used to, but Hermione and L.L. got on like a house on fire. Eventually, we decided to move next door."

Now that it'd been brought up, didn't the Lovegoods have a few other neighbours? "I vaguely recall that Arthur and Molly Weasley settled down nearby." The Diggorys should be close as well, but their only child was already at Hogwarts.

"They're a little further off but still neighbours. Their two youngest are here right now," Emma said. "As is Harry, of course."

Minerva couldn't hide her wince. It was far from public knowledge that Harry had been abused during his time with Lily's sister, but the information had gotten back to her through Albus. She couldn't help but feel at fault for what had happened to him. She _knew_ Lily wouldn't have wanted him to go to her sister. She should have fought harder to keep the Wizengamot from sending him there. Even if she'd failed in that endeavour, perhaps she could have arranged something to help him in another way.

Voice lowered, Emma asked, "You _know_, don't you?"

"I do," Minerva admitted in an equally soft voice. "I taught both of his parents. I knew his mother well and had the unfortunate privilege of keeping his father in line. You have my deepest gratitude for making him feel welcome in your home."

Dan, in turn, said, "It's our pleasure. He, Hermione, and L.L. are inseparable these days." His smile turned to a frown. "I can't believe your ministry placed him with that cousin of his. It's a good job Arthur and Molly have taken a firm hand with that boy."

As Minerva understood it, there was some not strictly necessary but highly advisable protection against retaliation for Harry which could only exist in the presence of another close blood relative of Lily's. Since Dudley Dursley was the only remaining option, there was no argument to be made. She explained what little she knew but didn't bother to bore the Grangers with the details.

Neither Dan nor Emma was particularly impressed with the explanation, such as it was, but said nothing more on the subject.

"At any rate, I see that it's unnecessary now, but, on record, do you need me to prove to you that magic exists?"

Emma smiled, and Dan openly laughed. The former invited Minerva to step inside.

The room had shelves lining each wall. Some were filled with books, but others contained a slew of miniature statues and models. In the centre sat a table around which had gathered two redheads – obviously Weasleys – a blonde girl Minerva immediately identified as the Lovegoods' daughter, Miss Granger, and Harry. Harry and the Weasley boy were engaged in a game of chess to pass the time while the girls watched and chatted.

Atop the table at its centre were more of those miniature statues arranged around the model of a decrepit manor in a forest. Scattered about around this display were dozens of dice of all shapes and sizes, small piles of paper, and snacks both muggle and magical.

Emma said, "Resume play," and the entire table came to life. The trees rustled in an imaginary breeze. The statues moved. The manor _felt_ eerie. It was, in Minerva's opinion, an impressive – if somewhat frivolous – application of charms and transfiguration.

"When something becomes recreational," Emma began, "I think it's fair to say you believe in it. Hermione will see you at Hogwarts."

* * *

**A/N: **How has this little side project already accrued more followers than my main one? I blame the size of the _Harry Potter_ fan base. Sigh...

Anyway, this is the actual end of the pre-Hogwarts years. The next update probably won't be for a while as I'll need to plot out Lelouch and Kallen's first year and I want to get the next arc of KSCoB up and running. Also, well, I've caught the pony bug again. I'm probably going to play around in the MLP universe again over on FIMFiction now with _considerably_ more writing experience under my belt.

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Behold! A shameless self-promotion! I have a Patrreon account under the username Forthwith if you want to support my writing in general.


	8. Y1S7 - The Hogwarts Express

**A/N:** Sadly, I own neither _Code Geass_ nor _Harry Potter_.

* * *

Year One  
Stage 07 - The Hogwarts Express

Of every possible way to transport students to Hogwarts, Lelouch had always considered it strange that the school had chosen to a lay an exclusive train line all the way from London to the Scottish Highlands. It couldn't be cheap to maintain, and it needlessly complicated a journey that could more reasonably be made through the floo, a portkey, or even that detestable Knight Bus the ministry operated. It certainly would have made an impression two centuries ago as a status symbol, but perhaps it had since simply fallen into tradition.

Kallen sighed beside Lelouch as they both waited for the Weasleys to pass through to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters one by one from the muggle side of King's Cross. "I should have just taken you and left the entourage behind," she groused.

The idea had merit. The Weasleys were notorious for delays and late arrivals. Not that such had ever surprised Lelouch. He'd spent years trying to get teenagers to behave and stay organised himself, Milly most infamously, and that torment had always been much akin to herding cats. With up to eight children in one house at a time, not counting the three exceptions, Arthur and Molly Weasley deserved an award just for surviving.

Eventually, they made it onto the platform with Kallen's parents trailing behind them. For her, this was her first time here. For Lelouch, however, it was just as he remembered it. The Weasleys had brought him along several times during his first year with them. That was, of course, until they'd found two trusted and willing babysitters in their new neighbours and friends, the Grangers, with a daughter willing to tolerate the intrusion of other children, unlike the Lovegoods'.

The six students amongst them flashed their Hogwarts Express tickets as they passed the guard posted at the entrance as one massive group. The Weasleys then went about unloading their trolleys and relocating their trunks into a single compartment on the train. Meanwhile, Lelouch hung back on the platform with Kallen and her parents. They'd both done the sensible thing and shrunk their luggage to fit comfortably in their pockets.

Feeling somewhat sentimental, Lelouch said, "It's not Ashford, but perhaps this time we can graduate together."

Kallen offered Lelouch a wistful smile but made no other sign that she'd heard him. Instead, she turned to her parents and wrapped first her father and then her mother up in as full a hug as she could manage with her short stature. "I'm going to miss you both so much."

"We will too, princess." Even if he'd missed the small sniffle Emma had tried to hide, Lelouch could see the tears threatening to spill forth. "Boarding school was never in our plans for you. It's – it's going to be so quiet around the house with you gone."

Lelouch turned slightly to let mother and daughter have their moment together in relative privacy. In some ways, Kallen had changed drastically in this life, and he had her new parents to thank for smoothing her rough edges. She'd never forget her own personal tragedies, he knew, but it was heartwarming to see her unafraid to show her softer side to those she loved. He only hoped the magical world didn't take that from her as Britannia had.

Dan placed a hand on Lelouch's shoulder. "I trust you'll look after her."

"As much as she will me, I assure you."

All too soon, the Hogwarts Express's whistle filled the air, and their time together drew short. They shared one last round of farewells with the Weasleys included this time and then boarded the train. Even after these last few years, it was a strangely domestic moment. Lelouch wondered, for a brief moment, if this was what his life would have been like if he'd not rejected Ruben's offer of adoption so very long ago. He'd been too angry and aggrieved then to accept it, never mind the danger it would have put the Ashfords in had he and Nunnally not clung to the shadows, but had he, perhaps he would have managed to find some island of peace in that life.

Lelouch shook off the idle thought and, with Kallen at his side, politely excused himself from the Weasley children's presence as the train left the station. The pair found an empty compartment for themselves nearby which would serve them perfectly well for the moment. Once inside, their school wands popped from the holsters on their wrists into their hands. He unshrunk their trunks while Kallen sent a locking charm at the door and drew the curtains.

"Have I mentioned yet how much I hate the Hogwarts uniform? Even the upscale version we got?"

Chuckling, Lelouch pulled his own out of his trunk and shed his clothes to change into it. They had an impression to make upon their peers, and it didn't involve muggle casual. "I never heard you complain about Ashford's."

"Ugh, _Ashford's_. Milly's is more like it. Should I be concerned that she didn't force the girls to wear tights?"

Lelouch paused with his uniform's dress shirt half-buttoned to arch an eyebrow at the question.

"You're right. It's Milly." Kallen held the bottom half of her uniform up and inspected it with a critical eye. "At least the skirt is relatively practical. Remind me again how miserable it gets in Scotland."

"Not so much so that a warming charm won't stave off the cold," Lelouch replied. He wrapped the outer robe of his uniform around his shoulders and slipped his arms into the sleeves. It was no cape and a far cry from the imperial purple, but it had its own charm and flair as well as comfort. He could work with magical fashion.

After Lelouch tossed his discarded plain clothes into his trunk, he reshrunk it and placed it in his inner robe pocket. Kallen did the same but moments later, and they gave each other a once-over. He spotted a lock of wavy, brown hair that had gotten trapped beneath her robe and tugged it free while her hands adjusted his tie.

"Men's fashion is so strange in this world," Kallen idly commented.

Strange wasn't quite the word Lelouch would have used. Restrictive, boring, or lacking diversity would fit better. Regardless, he understood Kallen's meaning. "That would be your Britannian bias speaking." He chuckled at the sour look on her face. "Did you never visit the EU?"

"On occasion with Nunnally, but I largely steered clear of politics and politicians. Not very many people were happy I effectively jumped ship."

It certainly took no stretch of the imagination to picture how most of Kallen's old friends, let alone the UFN as a whole, must have reacted to her attaching herself to the Demon Emperor's little sister.

Kallen's hands lingered on Lelouch's tie and slowly trailed down his chest, a pensive expression on her face. "Do you ever wonder how they're all doing?"

"More often than I should." It was a subject they usually avoided. _If_ they could go back even just for a visit, it would likely take them years to figure out how. Even then, who knew where their home world was in its timeline? "We left them at peace. From what you've told me, everyone found something to make them happy. I'm sure they're all doing well."

"I suppose you're right," Kallen said with a small but genuine smile. It faded, however, and vanished into a resigned sigh. When prompted, she shared her woes. "Attending primary school again was so frustrating. Hogwarts at least ostensibly has new material to teach us, but our classmates are still going to be less than half my age by the time we graduate."

Lelouch shrugged. For him, school had been a sanctuary from an otherwise inescapable home life, but he understood the sentiment. "Now we both know how C.C. feels. If she of all people can enjoy our company despite her centuries, I'm sure we can do the same at Hogwarts with a far smaller gap."

"Oh yes. Relative teenagers are _so_ much better than snot-nosed brats."

Unable to resist, Lelouch added, "Do recall Hogwarts is also the school for the privileged with some token muggleborn of good means thrown in for appearance's sake."

"Lovely," Kallen growled with a scowl marring her – for an eleven-year-old – beautiful face. Nonetheless, they'd both resigned themselves to befriending what technically constituted their generation of Magical Britain's movers and shakers. Revolutions were so much easier to bring about when at least some of the kingmakers were on board, and Lelouch wanted to her to have that support before she snapped and moved to burn the country to the ground.

Preferably, that would happen _after_ they graduated. Lelouch had a bet with C.C. to win, after all.

Lelouch extended an arm. Slipping out of their native tongue back into this world's English, he said, "Once more unto the breach, dear friend, once more. Shall we, Miss Granger?"

Despite her sigh, Kallen slipped a hand into Lelouch's arm. She shook her head and declared, "You spend too much time with my parents," but smiled nonetheless. "Lead on, Heir Potter."

* * *

The Hogwarts Express, for all its inefficiencies as a mode of transport, had long served a nobler purpose. Here the students of Hogwarts had six uninterrupted hours to network without parental oversight, public scrutiny, or house divisions. Many were already friends or acquaintances. For some, these would be first and potentially forbidden meetings. For others, it would be secret trysts. In the odd case where tempers flared too hotly, wands would be drawn.

As Pansy Parkinson politely showed one of their older well-wishers to the door – a largely ceremonial gesture, given the small size of the Hogwarts Express's compartments – Draco allowed a thoughtful frown to settle onto his face. At some point, he needed to step out and hunt down his cousin before anyone else snapped the boy up. That presented something of a minor problem. His leadership of the traditionalist students, those who wished to secure their culture against the corrosive tide of the so-called progressives, had never been in question. He was Draco Malfoy. Thus they'd fallen into line easily enough. Yet he needed to be _seen_ leading them this early in the game. In a few weeks, he could begin to delegate, but for now, he couldn't afford to miss any visitors.

Perhaps he could send Vincent Crabbe or Gregory Goyle out with an invitation. Draco doubted either boy had the wit to understand the lost opportunities their mere absence could cause. It might come back to bite him in the arse later on if the relevant father discovered the slight, but it might be worth it. It _should_ be worth it. Probably. Playing the game for real, it turned out, was much harder than the little scenarios and lessons he'd worked through together with his mother. It certainly didn't help that, by sheer coincidence, nearly everyone in his year was the heir or heiress to a family critically important to his generation's political landscape.

A knock came at the compartment door with two small silhouettes visible upon the frosted glass window. Pansy rose to greet their new guests, and when the door slid open, it revealed a brunette witch in fine robes on the arm of an equally well dressed boy with a scar peeking out from beneath somewhat unruly black hair.

_Well, speak of Morgan le Fay._ While Draco would have preferred a more private first meeting to sound out his cousin's politics – clandestine letters, carefully written, could only go so far – this worked out well enough. He rose with a welcoming smile on his face. "Dear cousin, please enter and be welcome."

Nodding and offering his own greeting, Harry stepped into the compartment with the as yet unknown witch. Knowing the Weasley filth he'd been left with, Draco would ordinarily assume she was a mudblood, but he reserved judgement for the moment. She certainly held herself with all the grace and dignity expected of a great house, but even monkeys could be trained as such. Besides, it wouldn't do to insult an obviously close companion of such a powerful piece on the board. His mother would drag him by the ear back into remedial lessons if he made so crass a move.

As a show of respect despite how newly ennobled the Potter family was, Draco allowed Potter to offer his hand first to shake. When he then turned to the witch, she held her hand out with her palm down. It was an older tradition, one no longer quite in vogue, but his mother had ensured he knew how to properly greet a lady regardless of how she chose to greet him.

Draco took the witch's hand lightly in his own and bowed slightly. He asked, "Might I know the lovely lady's name?" before then placing a courtly kiss upon her hand.

A mischievous smirk, never a good sign for a wizard, emerged on the witch's face. "Why Heir Malfoy, I'm hurt. After all the fan mail and philosophical debates, I would have thought you'd have at least found a picture of me."

Despite the snickering of his friends, Draco's eyes widened. It couldn't be. "Hermione Granger?"

"The one and only."

"But you're so young!"

The frank disbelief only made the much younger than expected Granger smirk.

"Hermione is one of the youngest published authors in the world and certainly the most successful," Harry offered by way of an explanation, clearly no less amused with the situation than Granger. "Had I known you wouldn't investigate her background, I would have chosen an edition of her first book with a short biography on the dust jacket."

That was hardly fair! A secret exchange of letters was meant to be _kept_ secret. Who would Draco have even asked to find that information for him? Sure, he probably should have told his parents about the opportunity, but if he had, then it would be _theirs_, not _his_. And it'd been exciting and so wrong to… _Wait._ "'First' book?"

"Oh yes. I finished a distant prequel recently concerning one of Lelouch's more…shall we say, colourful ancestors. Less magic and war, more politics and social drama. I'm unsure if it would be of interest to you." After a moment's pause, Granger added, "Or if your parents would entirely approve. Empress Annwn was Britannia's first openly polyamorous ruler."

Draco wasn't familiar with the term, and the confusion must have shown on his face.

"She married twice for love," Harry offered.

And then Draco recalled the absurd number of wives Emperor Charles had taken _simultaneously_. Blushing slightly despite himself, he made a quiet, "Oh," of understanding and was thankful no one else seemed to have caught on to the meaning just yet. Perhaps he would ask for a copy of the second book later. In private.

Pansy faked a cough to draw their attention. Once she had it, she said, "Draco, introductions?"

"Yes. Introductions." He should get on that. Draco took a moment to properly compose himself and then went around the compartment once everyone was seated, starting with the one he knew best at his right. "Harry, Miss Granger, this is Pansy Parkinson, and just after her is Millicent Bulstrode. Across the way, we have Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Theodore Nott."

Draco then paused a moment to consider how to proceed. Both Harry and Granger were clearly very familiar with proper etiquette. Given how little he knew the Weasleys cared for such things – never mind the Lovegoods – he assumed Harry's education had mostly come from Granger. But the Dagworth-Grangers, he'd learnt from his father, had moved to France nearly three centuries ago before fading into obscurity. Their information on British society might be woefully out of date.

Thus, Draco decided, for their sake, he added, "Each of us is the heir or heiress of our respective families. With the exception of Crabbe and Goyle, each of our families also has a seat on the Wizengamot."

Harry and Granger both nodded, and Draco then turned to address his allies at large. "Everyone, this is Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. We all know of my cousin, naturally, but Miss Granger here is a brilliant author. One with controversial ideas, but brilliant nonetheless."

Granger rolled her eyes. "The policies you parrot from your father are wasteful and inefficient. Someday, I'll either convince you of that or badger Harry enough that he caves and does it himself."

That elicited a chuckle from Harry. "No, I do believe this is Your Majesty's pro–" He grunted as Granger elbowed him. "–ject."

More than a few sceptical looks met the interaction.

Granger snorted disdainfully. "My name comes from the Shakespearean Queen Hermione," she explained. "Harry believes its a riot to tease me so."

"Stripping the jest of its context is hardly fair," Harry countered. "You have such political aspirations, after all."

Draco carefully didn't react to that as the wheels in his head began to turn. Granger wasn't just some old, obscure author. She was only just getting started in life, and she wanted in on politics. She'd already attached herself to a noble house, easily the one with the most popular support right now and so new as to have no established practises. Given how close those two behaved, she likely intended to join it once they were old enough to marry. Regardless of the respectable Potter fortune, he knew she _must_ have some wealth of her own to throw around. Together, they could likely wield some significant economic force. Moreover, she clearly had a gift for at least the written word, and he hadn't missed the implication that Harry had a silver tongue himself.

This was going to be more difficult than expected but also vastly more worthwhile. Draco would have to move _very_ carefully to collect both Harry and Granger. They came as a package deal, no doubt. He only hoped no one said anything stupid before he could warn them. A wince escaped him at the memory. When aroused, Granger's temper was _scathing_. If her wand cut even half as deep as her words, he wouldn't want to be the one duelling her.

* * *

Between carriages, Kallen and Lelouch had stopped to discuss those they'd just met as they already had twice before. He had his notes out, briefly updating his dossiers with his own thoughts and hers until the finished their rounds and had time for a longer review. He used to have people to do that for him, but alas, they were no longer in charge of an organisation with a massive, world spanning information network.

Once they made it through the less important personages, Lelouch asked, "What's your opinion on the Court of Darkness?"

Kallen rolled her eyes. "We _are not_ calling them that. That's _way_ too cool for a bunch of brats with delusions of grandeur."

As might be expected, Lelouch said, "Well, that answers that question," as he recorded Kallen's answer. "You caught that Draco wants to recruit us?"

"Yeah. I have to deal with _you_. In comparison, he's about as subtle as a brick to the face."

Lelouch, of course, smiled with smug satisfaction. "If you play your cards right, you can recruit him instead."

"And if I screw up, he'll ostracise me at best," Kallen replied. "Fun." This whole social revolution thing would proceed so much more smoothly if Lelouch would just take charge, but noooo. That would be too easy. Honestly, what kind of former Emperor of Earth had hang-ups about taking over a tiny fraction of a small island nation for its own good?

"Any thoughts about the others?"

Kallen sighed and set aside her griping. "They're so young that it's hard to say much. Crabbe and Goyle give off henchmen vibes. Parkinson probably has a thing for Draco. No idea about Bulstrode. Nott feels like the Starscream of the group."

Lelouch stopped writing. "The what?"

"Oh, you've never watched – no, of course you haven't." Lelouch had been stuck with the Dursleys during the original run, and she'd not bothered to find a VHS copy of the series on principle. "Starscream is the backstabbing, villainous second-in-command of the bad guys in Transformers. Think sentient anime giant robots but for the Americans. A bit dated for us, but fun nonetheless. Very popular worldwide."

"Hmm, I'll need to check to see if any of the series I enjoyed still exist. Another time, however." Lelouch tucked away his notes and offered up his arm once more. "Shall we continue?"

"I suppose we should."

* * *

This had been a bad idea from the onset. Had he been homeschooled, at least he could have failed in private. But that would not do. Instead, his grandmother had put him on the train to Hogwarts, and he'd been too frightened to get off. Everyone already thought he was a squib, clearly he was a coward, and now he'd proven that he couldn't even be trusted to look after a pet toad. The only way his failure could be more complete was to trip over his own shoelaces and die.

With a timid knock, Neville entered another compartment and asked if anyone had inside had seen his toad, Trevor. The group of sixth and seventh years told him to get lost, which he took as a no before promptly shutting the door and moving along out of view through the frosted glass. He leant up against the carriage wall and let out relieved sigh to have gotten away with no further altercation. Hopefully, he wouldn't be in whatever house those people were.

A little further down the corridor, another door opened. A witch on a wizard's arm, both Neville's own age, stepped out and closed it behind them. They struck up a quiet conversation amongst themselves before heading in his direction. Given that he'd already checked every compartment behind him and they were headed that way, he doubted they'd seen Trevor. They'd probably just been visiting a friend. Still, he might as well ask while he had the chance.

"Um, excuse me."

The pair broke off their conversation and, apparently noticing him for the first time, approached Neville with friendly smiles. "Heir Longbottom, correct?" the boy asked.

"I, uh, yes." Since when did anyone outside his family recognise him? It wasn't like his grandmother ever took him anywhere. He'd just end up embarrassing the family. "I'm Neville."

The boy nodded to himself and then made his own introductions. "Harry Potter, and this is Hermione Granger."

Taken aback, Neville's eye drifted up until they landed on a scar partially obscured beneath the fringe of Harry's hair.

Hermione chuckled. "I think Neville here might be the first person not muggle-raised not to recognise you on sight."

Neville stammered out an apology in response to the comment. He'd not meant to offend.

"No need for that," Harry said warmly. "It's somewhat of a relief, actually. It's one thing for adults to recognise me. I'm told I look just like my father. Children, however?" He shook his head. "Those Harry Potter books are a menace. I've not seen a knut from them, and they give people rather unrealistic expectations."

"What?" Hermione said with clear mischief in her voice. "Surely you wouldn't deny Ginny a ride with you on your unicorn as you whisk her off to your enchanted castle in the sky."

A sour expression forced its way onto Harry's face, and Neville found himself smiling at the exchange.

With click of his tongue and a dismissive air, Harry said, "She's not nearly as bad as she used to be." He shook his head of the memory and then let his attention fall back onto Neville. "Anyway, did you need something?"

"Oh!" Neville had almost forgotten. "Uh, have you seen a large toad? Mine got away from me."

The pair looked to each other, and Hermione spoke first. "Clearwater, wasn't it?"

"I think so," Harry said. "She was sharing a compartment with Percy, wasn't she?" Getting a nod, he turned to Neville and said, "Two carriages back, a Ravenclaw prefect named Penelope Clearwater found a toad on her patrol. She should still have it, assuming it hasn't escaped while her duties distracted her."

Neville thanked both of them for their assistance and followed their directions. Sure enough, when he found the witch in question, she returned Trevor to him and gave him a long but mild and deserved scolding to keep better track of his pet. He really needed a carrier, or a habitat, or something to that effect. It certainly didn't inspire confidence in his ability to keep hold on him when Trevor managed to jump out of his grip before he even left Clearwater's compartment. With a resigned sigh, she spelled Trevor to behave for the rest of the day, for which he thanked her profusely, and then wished him luck before shooing him out back into the corridor.

_Well, that could have gone worse._ It was hard to imagine how without reaching into the farcical, however.

Regardless, Neville made his way back to his compartment nearer to the front of the train with Trevor in his arms. Inside he found Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones animatedly chatting with Harry and Hermione about chocolate frog cards of all things. From the sound of it, the latter had turned the collectible cards into a deck-building game of some sort and were demonstrating how to play. They all welcomed him back, and he quietly took the free seat near the door beside Susan.

The explanation finished before too long, and they reset the game. Neville had heard enough of the rules to join in when invited. Once they all got a feel for the game, conversation flowed away from reminders of the rules to their upcoming arrival at Hogwarts.

"So where do you think you'll be sorted?" Hannah asked no one in particular.

Neville knew he was going to end up in Hufflepuff since he didn't have the traits looked for in any other house. No doubt his gran would be disappointed, but what could he do?

"I don't know…" Hermione said. "I'm smart, and I've developed an appreciation for literature. Ravenclaw, maybe?"

Harry snorted. He either didn't notice or ignored the glare sent his way and added, "You're too rash and brave to go anywhere but Gryffindor."

"Hey! I'm not nearly as bad as I used to be."

"I suppose you _have_ mellowed in your old age," Harry allowed with an air of magnanimity. This promptly earned him an elbow to the side.

Susan, barely suppressing a series of giggles, said, "My aunt was a Hufflepuff, so I think I'd like to go there as well."

That was the first time Neville had ever heard of someone who _wanted_ to go to Hufflepuff. Everyone else who spoke of the house considered it the place where one went when they weren't wanted elsewhere.

"Hufflepuff for me, too," Hannah said. "Susan and I want to stick together. Hufflepuff loyalty, you know. What about you, Neville?"

Trying not to sound too unexcited with two wannabe Puffs in the compartment, Neville said, "Probably Hufflepuff," without explanation.

Susan and Hannah then turned to Harry for his answer, but Hermione spoke first. "If he goes anywhere but Slytherin, I'll eat my hat."

Despite the faces of surprise turned upon him, Harry merely confirmed the claim by saying, "I'm sure I can talk my way into whatever house you end up in. Am I not brave, faithful, and intelligent?"

"Uh-huh," came Hermione's rather sceptical response.

* * *

Once more between carriages, Kallen leant on the railing and watched the scenery go by. They had just crossed Hadrian's Wall, something she'd been pleasantly surprised to catch a glimpse of. She could still see it off in the distance, technically, but the ruin was now only a thin grey line against a green backdrop. It was a curious thing how differently history had gone with the successful Roman conquest of Britain.

"Hmm, what did you think of the Patil twins?"

It took Kallen a few moments to properly collect her thoughts after letting her mind wander. She closed her eyes and thought back on their short introduction. "For twins, they had very distinct personalities. Parvati sounded a bit frivolous, but Padma seemed well put together. For an eleven-year-old, she held a academic conversation well enough."

After a brief scribbling of his pencil, Lelouch asked, "What about Susan's group?"

That one was easy to answer. "Befriend them and their yours." When they'd heard that Neville was sharing the compartment, they'd decided to stay and wait to have a proper chance to speak with him. The extra time had given Kallen plenty of time to get a good read on both Susan and Hannah. They were nice girls, and she had Neville pegged as an overgrown stuffed bear in desperate need of a hug. "All three of them are probably the type to make friends for life, which says a lot about them all on its own."

Kallen let a small sigh escape her. She missed Nunnally.

* * *

Hair splayed out, one arm dangling toward the floor while the other rested upon her chest, Daphne Greengrass lay in relative comfort and dreamt of empire. There was fire, and death, and devastation on a scale she'd never dared even imagine, but so too was there glory, and valour, and joy. It was a messy affair with knives in the dark juxtaposed against grand speeches meant for enemies and allies alike. The banners bore an unfamiliar sigil she'd seen countless times, ever unchanged, yet something about it forever flirted with recognition.

Daphne groaned as she stirred. The next moment, a pair of hands helped her back into an upright position. "Thanks, Trace," she mumbled.

Now seated beside her, Tracey Davis asked simply, "Bad?"

"Mixed." Daphne raised a hand to rub at her eye. "More cleansing fire than consuming this time." A quick glance out the compartment window revealed how low the sun had sunk in the sky. They'd soon arrive at Hogsmeade Station. "How long have I been out?"

"A couple hours this time." Tracey made no attempt to hide the concern in her voice.

It was with an apologetic smile that Daphne said, "I'm really not getting any better at pulling myself out of the visions, am I?" As if she needed an answer to that! She leant back into her seat with a tired sigh. Such lengthy divinations always taxed some strange part of her not entirely body, mind, or magic.

"Daph…"

"I'm fine. Truly, I am." It would only take a bit of rest to get back to her usual self as it always did. "If we weren't meant to meddle with time, Hogwarts wouldn't offer divination as an elective."

Tracey rolled her eyes. "Yes, because how many people have told you that class is worth anything?"

A wry smile, Daphne decided, was the best answer to that question.

"Well, whatever. You know our deal."

Indeed, she did, and Daphne highly doubted she would ever need Tracey to seek medical aid for her and thereby expose her ability. That was the only reason she'd agreed to the terms in the first place. There were too few publicly known seers in this day and age for her to not believe they were being quietly disposed of in one way or another.

"So? Do we get to live now?"

Daphne couldn't help but laugh at Tracey's irreverence. Shrugging, she returned it with an equally flippant, "Who knows?" If only her visions would so conveniently answer such questions. No, sadly, they only gave her hazy, ephemeral impressions much akin to the dreams in which they came to her. "But I'm fairly certain no one destroyed the world this time." It was rather troubling how often that happened.

Thus did Daphne launch into trying to recount a dream only half remembered while Tracey dutifully recorded her every word and, on occasion, added a reference to a previous entry or annotated it with one of the recurring themes they'd noticed. There was _always_ a war. That seemed nonnegotiable with fate, although the details varied wildly. Often, there was politics. Sometimes, there was economics. If they were lucky, there was romance.

A knock came at the compartment door before they finished. Somewhat miffed at the interruption, Daphne gestured for Tracey to hide the journal and rose to deal with their unexpected and unwelcome company. Whoever had come was, judging by their shadows on the door, too short to have official school business. It wouldn't do to ignore the pair outright, but neither must she provide a warm reception. She willed away her frosty frown and pushed a carefully neutral look onto her face before opening the door.

To her great surprise, Daphne recognised one of the pair immediately. "Heir Potter?"

"Heiress Greengrass," Potter replied with a nod of his head. "A pleasure."

Daphne wiped the surprise from her face in an instant but still scrambled to regain her bearings. This was unexpected, to say the least. She invited him and his companion inside and stepped aside.

Although she and Tracey had largely kept to themselves during the trip to Hogwarts, this nonetheless remained a day to observe all due formalities. Once Daphne shut the door, she turned to her unknown guest. The brunette had no particular features she recognised, although the girl certainly knew how to hold herself. After a brief moment more of scrutiny, she turned to introductions.

"I don't believe we've met. Daphne Greengrass, heiress to the Greengrass family." With a wave of the hand and a nod of the head, she added, "This is Tracey Davis. Her brother has already completed his education." She arched an eyebrow at her mystery guest in silent expectation.

"Hermione Granger. I–"

"The _Quibbler_ reporter?" Tracey blurted out in the same disbelief Daphne felt but had the poise not to let show.

If Granger was offended, she concealed it well. "I write the occasional article. Sadly, I don't have Xeno's flair for satire."

Daphne snorted in polite amusement. _Satire, indeed._ The _Quibbler_ without question had real news the ministry would want censored buried beneath the nonsense, but there were _reasons_ no one had ever tried to call Lovegood on anything he wrote. She doubted even veritaserum could get him to admit even half of his wild stories had more than a touch of fancy to them.

"Well," Daphne began. What interesting company Potter kept. "I see now why my father could never uncover anything of your history." They'd assumed Hermione Granger was a pseudonym with Lovegood being his usual inscrutable self when questioned, but it would seem Granger simply hadn't yet had time to leave much of a paper trail in the world. That did explain a few things. As would the next question. "Muggleborn?" While Granger didn't give off any of the usual signs nor had she committed any of the typical faux pas, they had more anonymity in the magical world than anyone born to it.

Granger shrugged. "All evidence I've seen points to no such person existing."

That was a yes, then. Still, the response had Daphne's curiosity, though Tracey asked the obvious question first.

"What do you mean?"

With a subtle nudge from Granger, Potter picked up the explanation. "Statistically speaking, magic is hereditary. The exceptions likely result from unhappy spouses taking a nonmagical lover or two forgotten squib lines meeting with a bit of luck. If you're interested, we could explain in greater detail another time. To properly understand the subject would take far longer than we have before we arrive at Hogwarts."

"If we find the time," Daphne allowed. While interesting and opposed to popular theory on where muggleborn came from, it had little bearing on the actual rhetoric used by either side of the blood purity divide that split their society. It was a mere curiosity. Much as no one cared that a tomato was actually a fruit, where muggleborn actually came by their magic didn't change the social, economic, and political roles they played in the magical world.

"Regardless," Potter continued, "we'd appreciate it if you kept Hermione's origins to yourselves. Dear Cousin Draco has been labouring under the self-delusion that she's a pureblood for a few years now. The longer he goes without realising, the more spectacular the breakdown."

Daphne cracked a smile while Tracey all but rolled with laughter.

* * *

Kallen gracelessly threw herself with a flump onto the bench of the empty compartment she and Lelouch had found for themselves. She deserved a long rest she knew she wasn't going to get after making the rounds with what felt like everyone in Hogwarts. From above, he arched an eyebrow at her with silent mirth.

"Not a word out of you. I haven't had to do anything like this in years." The last time she'd needed to dredge up full courtly etiquette must have been at the last liberation ball in Britannia. Nunnally, to keep up appearances, had to hold one every year to celebrate the death of the man they'd both loved most, if in different ways. What a foul mood they'd been in on the days leading up to those. She considered it a mark of her skill as an actress to have made it through each without strangling someone. "Just give me some time to get back into the swing of things."

Lelouch declined to make a witty remark in response and took the opposite seat in the compartment. From his inner robe pocket he withdrew his notes and his pencil to make his final changes to his dossiers on their fellow Hogwarts students. There was little time left before they arrived at Hogsmeade, so he worked with a quiet efficiency while Kallen drifted on the edge of consciousness.

"Hmm, what did you think of Wood?"

It took a few seconds for Kallen to realise that had been directed at her. Her first attempt at a response came out as an incomprehensible sleepy sound, but on her second attempt, she managed a valiant, "Who and what?"

Lelouch repeated the question.

"Oh." A long delayed, "Ugh," escaped Kallen. "He's a quidditch fanatic just as the Weasleys described him."

Kallen could get behind a good recreational game, but the magical world's favoured sport was blinding in its absurdity. If whoever codified the rules got rid of the snitch and bought a clock, _then_ it could pass as a sensible game if one ignored the hundred and fifty pounds of solid iron whizzing around the field trying to kill the players. Witches and wizards did tend to be more durable than the nonmagical, but that didn't affect her opinion.

"He obviously knows his stuff and probably has a strong influence on quidditch at Hogwarts. Stronger still now that he's a team captain. Likely more important than he should be, and I can't find it in me to care." Kallen still had a lingering headache from enduring his mania. Rooting around in her bag of holding, she picked out a small vial of a mild pain relieving potion and downed the contents. "If I end up in Gryffindor, I will say right now that I categorically refuse to play quidditch for any reason. I don't need to be a sports star to have power."

Unable – or more likely not bothering – to hide the amusement in his voice, Lelouch said, "Fair enough. Greengrass and Davis?"

"Greengrass is a classical tsundere. She's young and we caught her by surprise a few times, so we got a peek beneath the mask, but she kept putting it back up. I doubt anyone but Davis and maybe her family gets to see her warm, sentimental centre."

"So you but more mature," Lelouch concluded.

In response, Kallen offered up a lazy two-fingered salute. She'd gotten over her issues. "Davis kind of reminds me of Rivalz. You know, if you'd taken him fully into your confidence."

After a few silent moments, Lelouch said, "I can see that," and returned to writing.

The pair went back and forth with Lelouch eventually bouncing his own thoughts over the whole trip off of Kallen. He did so like to have someone with a different perspective on life listen to his plans and opinions. As brilliant as he was, he couldn't catch _everything_. He knew that, and she and C.C. were always willing to hear him out. All they needed now to complete the moment was something to interrupt them when things were just about to turn romantic.

On cue, the Hogwarts Express's whistle blew. The train began its slow crawl to a stop. They'd arrived at Hogsmeade Station.

* * *

**A/N:** Writing Lelouch and Kallen with their roles reversed is hard. Her fire has reignited with a new cause while he, with all of his personal demons buried, has mellowed out over the years. The current dynamic won't last forever despite how much he and C.C. love to tease 'Empress Kallen', but for now, it's their new normal. I'm sure something or someone will come along eventually and piss Lelouch off.

* * *

Behold! A shameless self-promotion! I have a Patrreon account under the username Forthwith if you want to support my writing in general.


	9. Y1S8 - The Sorting

**A/N:** Sadly, I own neither _Code Geass_ nor _Harry Potter_.

* * *

Year One  
Stage 08 - The Sorting

If Kallen hadn't already known how Hogwarts sorted students into their houses, she would have been very surprised and very concerned that they let a ragged hat falling apart at the seams decide who went where after delivering a musical number.

"Abbott, Hannah."

Instead, she was only regularly concerned.

"Hufflepuff!"

Granted, the hat was supposed to possess some level of intelligence.

"Bones, Susan."

It presumably used an appropriate algorithm in its decision making process.

"Hufflepuff!"

But that wasn't the point.

"Boot, Terry."

These sorts of meaningless divisions never turned out well in the end.

"Ravenclaw!"

She'd heard how bad the rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor had become, for instance.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy."

Honestly, she didn't know what house she'd end up in after some objective measure of her personality, if such a thing even existed.

"Ravenclaw!"

But she did acknowledge she had a fair chance of ending up in Gryffindor.

"Brown, Lavender."

She didn't really have a problem with the house's virtues and failings.

"Gryffindor!"

She could nitpick every house, after all. It wasn't hard.

"Bulstrode, Millicent."

The Gryffindors were dumb jocks who never stopped to think before rushing into danger.

"Slytherin!"

The Hufflepuffs were the insular rejects hostile to anyone not of their own.

"Corner, Michael."

The Ravenclaws were friendless bookworms living in their ivory tower.

"Ravenclaw!"

And the Slytherins were wannabe dark lords who would inevitably turn evil in pursuit of their lust for power.

"Cornfoot, Stephen."

The point was she didn't want to deal with the factionalism of this school more than she absolutely had to.

"Ravenclaw!"

A nice, neutral house like Ravenclaw would be nice.

"Crabbe, Vincent."

Hufflepuff would also be acceptable, she supposed.

"Slytherin!"

Susan and Hannah were okay company for children, and they'd already gone to the badgers.

"Davis, Tracey."

She could survive Slytherin if she ended up there.

"Slytherin!"

If anyone who cared realised she was muggleborn, they would learn very quickly not to cause her problems.

"Dunbar, Fay."

She glanced at Lelouch beside her from the corner of her eye.

"Gryffindor!"

Really, she just wanted to avoid Gryffindor.

"Entwhistle, Kevin."

Kallen let out a long sigh.

"Hufflepuff!"

She'd had her loyalty twisted, and bent, and tested, and ultimately thrown in her face.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin."

Despite that, she'd still found her way back to her friend, her commander, her prince, her emperor, and her lover's side.

"Hufflepuff!"

The years here had also given her something to be proud of beyond her ability to kill people.

"Finnigan, Seamus."

As Hermione Granger, she'd become a well-respected author with a love for both literature and knowledge.

"Gryffindor!"

She had plenty of ambition as well to consider.

"Goldstein, Anthony."

The current status quo of the magical world wasn't as bad as Britannia in most ways, but she was still going to burn it to the ground.

"Ravenclaw!"

_Shite. That was a Gryffindor thought, wasn't it?_

"Goyle, Gregory."

She sighed again as she turned her attention to the surprisingly long wait for Professor McGonagall to call her name.

"Slytherin!"

This year's crop of students was very skewed toward the beginning of the alphabet, wasn't it?

"Granger, Hermione."

At long last, Kallen approached Professor McGonagall. She sat on the designated stool. Then the professor placed the Sorting Hat atop her head.

_"Well, isn't this interesting."_

Kallen's eyes widened in alarm at the voice in her head. Her hands were already in motion to tear the hat from its perch.

_"Fear not. I will keep your secrets."_

With a frown, Kallen sceptically asked, _Really? And, pray tell, why should I not set you on fire this instant?_

_"Do you honestly believe the parents of all these young politicians would consent to my use if I could reveal family secrets?"_

That made more sense than Kallen felt she should allow a piece of tattered fabric. She got a strange but distinctly indignant feeling from the hat in return, but she stood by her opinion. More importantly, whether she burnt the hat to cinders or not, she needed to know how it got past her occlumency without her even noticing its intrusion.

_"A not uncommon question from those I choose to converse with,"_ the hat admitted, _"one whose answer I do not know. I sort children and nothing more."_

Needless to say, Kallen didn't appreciate that response. But then she wasn't entirely without her own theories. If the hat could bypass the known rules of mind magic, then that left three primary possibilities. Perhaps it knew some legilimency trick lost to time. Alternatively, it might be using an entirely different magical principle to communicate. But that was assuming it even played by the rules to begin with. It was possible, however unlikely, that Hogwarts's founders had created the Sorting Hat inside a Thought Elevator where reality bent around belief.

_"You've discovered the source of magic?"_ The hat sounded both surprised and curious. _"Ah, I see. Very interesting, indeed, your world."_

_You're really not giving me reasons to spare you._

The hat laughed, unconcerned.

_Do you even have a self-preservation instinct?_

After a bit of humming, the hat concluded, _"As my destruction would prevent me from sorting any future children, I believe so. Which, speaking of, we should get to. Consider me thoroughly threatened. Now you are a difficult case, Miss…"_ Kallen got the distinct impression the hat was frowning at her. _"You don't even know who you are anymore, do you?"_

Kallen gave the hat the mental equivalent of a shrug. _I'm me. Granger, Kōzuki, or even Stadtfeld is fine._ In all honesty, she would accept Potter, Lovegood, Lamperouge, or vi Britannia as well. Unlike Lelouch, who'd had all of his ties to this world torn away, and C.C., who'd only relatively recently begun to sort of care, she'd solved her identity crisis by accepting every facet of herself.

_"Very well, Miss Granger. That's your own business. Now where to put you…"_

_Not Gryffindor, please._

_"Hmm… But you _are_ possessed of a noble and valorous spirit. Daring, certainly, and so much courage. You've faced overwhelming odds at the risk of your own life. You threw away a life of wealth and power to pursue justice. Granted, you were young and angry at first, but you shaped up in time. You even buried your heart to stay true to your principles in the end."_

So many years removed from that event and since reunited with her lost love, Kallen barely reacted. She should have known better, but she'd been young and hurt at the time. _If Lelouch had only asked, I would have left with him._

_"Yes, I can see the truth of that. It's hard to make decisions when your loyalty is split, and oh, how strongly such loyalty pulls at your very being. I might even go so far as to say it's _the_ defining characteristic of your personality. Combined with your love for equality in law and your work ethic, you'd do well in Hufflepuff."_

_That's fine with me._ Hufflepuff did sound like a nice place filled with friendly people from what she'd heard of it.

_"Perhaps, perhaps…"_ It would seem that hat hadn't finished with Kallen yet. _"Let's not neglect your intellect. Your temper has gotten you into trouble in the past, but you have a sharp mind when you stop to think. Impeccable grades. A thirst for knowledge where magic is concerned. And you're an author?"_

_To be fair,_ Kallen said, _that stemmed from a plan to find my lovers._

_"True. Very resourceful of you. And that leads me to the remaining house. You are a stubborn, prideful girl with no less ambition than Salazar himself."_

Kallen bristled. _And you're an old rag._

_"Yes, but which of us repeatedly threw herself against hopeless odds? Which of us lauds herself as the strongest knight? Which of us intends to conquer Magical Britain?"_

As they were, Kallen could only glare at the brim of the hat atop her head. It was all true, but there'd been _extenuating circumstances_, not that the hat seemed to care.

_"Decisions, decisions… Where shall you go…"_

* * *

As with those before her, the students waited in patient silence for the Sorting Hat to cry out Kallen's house. The seconds passed, and several of the older children carried on an interrupted conversation that simply couldn't wait as teenagers were wont to do. This would be a longer sorting, clearly.

When the first minute elapsed, the whispering began. It settled into an indecipherable buzz from where Lelouch stood, but he picked out enough keywords to recognise truth distorting into rumour. The muggleborn knew of Kallen, of course, as did a few of those raised in the magical world. That information fed the gossip, mixed, and came out the other end entirely different.

Then the sorting became measured in minutes, not seconds. This was, apparently, unusual in the extreme and was known as a Hatstall. It was, some said, a sign of the hat deciding between where it _should_ put someone and where it _could_ put them to prevent the rise of a dark witch or wizard.

Lelouch rolled his eyes when he first heard that one. The standards for 'dark' in the magical world were laughably naive.

"What house do you think Hermione will end up in?"

"Gryffindor, probably," Lelouch said. Glancing to the side, he could tell all the gossip had left Ron somewhat on edge. "I'm sure the hat is trying to decide whether her courage or her books are more important to her."

"Yeah…" After a bit of thought, the worry on Ron's face settled. "Yeah, you're right. Tough call."

Lelouch gave Ron a distracted but reassuring pat on the shoulder as he turned his attention back to Kallen. In truth, he suspected the actual decision would be between Slytherin and Gryffindor. Either would pose their own problems, but they would cross what bridges they must when the time came.

More importantly, Lelouch wondered _how_ the hat made its decision. No one they'd spoken to before leaving for Hogwarts had revealed that information to them, much to their frustration. He suspected from Kallen's initial reaction that it read her mind. They'd trained rigorously for years to avoid exactly this sort of scenario. But then who knew what a thousand-year-old relic could do?

"Hufflepuff!"

A silence descended, much of it from surprise judging by the expressions Lelouch saw amongst the crowd of students at their tables. Kallen rose from the stool, removing the hat herself, and, with more gentleness than she obviously wished to use, returned it to Professor McGonagall.

It was only then that Kallen seemed to notice how quiet the hall was, and like a spell being broken, the students burst into applause as was custom. None clapped louder than the Hufflepuffs. The muggleborn in that house, Lelouch noted, seemed especially pleased. Professor McGonagall showed just a hint of disappointment while, at the High Table, Professor Sprout had a victorious air about her. Professors talked about students as much as students talked about professors, he knew, but he made a mental note that the heads of house were at least somewhat competitive with one another. Perhaps he should have been watching them to know who _they_ expected the standout students to be this year.

At any rate, Kallen signalled that they needed to talk as she went to join the enthusiastic Hufflepuff table. He nodded and jerked his head slightly toward the hat. She nodded in return, and he fingered his wand. When they got the opportunity, they'd use legilimency on each other for a quick word in private.

The sorting continued.

"Greengrass, Daphne."

In the opening the brief respectful silence of the sorting provided, Kallen made eye contact with Lelouch.

"Slytherin!"

They nodded to each other.

"Hopkins, Wayne."

With wands drawn, they waited until the hat would drown out the verbal component of their spellwork.

"Hufflepuff!"

Lelouch whispered, "Legilimens," with his wand held loosely at his side but pointed directly at Kallen.

"Jones, Megan."

With a guiding push from her, he slipped past Kallen's occlumency barriers and found his way into her short-term memory where her current thoughts dwelled.

"Hufflepuff!"

He helped her into his own mind in return.

"Li, Sue."

After years of practice with each other, they had the process down rote.

"Ravenclaw!"

In the privacy of his own mind, Lelouch asked, _What happened?_

"Longbottom, Neville."

_"The hat will read your mind,"_ Kallen replied. _"I didn't even notice it enter. And now that I think about it, it wasn't picky about what language I used, either."_

Lelouch frowned. That shouldn't be possible. A few ideas surfaced in Kallen's mind in response, but they could conjecture about such things another time.

_The hat hasn't exposed us yet as far as I can tell._

_"It _says_ it can't reveal your secrets."_

But words were cheap._ Do you believe it?_

Kallen offered a noncommittal, _"I guess."_ Lelouch could feel her reluctance to voice the words as she added, _"Do we have a choice but to trust it?"_

They _did_ have few options. If they destroyed it – if they _could_ destroy it – they would inevitably face legal action and a very significant cultural backlash even if they made it look like an accident. Nor was there much one could threaten or bribe a hat with. Another idea did occur, however.

_I could slip my wand inside it when I take it off and use a memory charm._

Kallen considered that for a few moments, her thoughts racing through what she knew of the spell. Underlying it was the desire to pass the question off to C.C., their resident expert in mind magic. Centuries of living with a code had given her an absurd amount of experience with manipulating the human psyche in both the metaphorical and literal sense, and her skill had largely crossed over.

_"I don't think it would work,"_ Kallen eventually concluded. She didn't sound particularly sure of herself, but she knew more about offensive magics than he did, so Lelouch took her word for it. _"Probably better not to try and, in failing, risk giving it permission to reveal our secrets as threats to the school or something."_

Then discretion would be the better part of valour for today. Lelouch wasn't particularly inclined to trust a sentient article of clothing, but it appeared they had no other viable choice ready at hand. By the time they could do something about it later on, it would either have already exposed their history or demonstrated that it would keep its brim, he supposed, shut.

Lelouch broke eye contact and, as a consequence, ended the legilimency spell connecting him with Kallen. When he turned back to the sorting, he noticed that Neville still wore the Sorting Hat. It hadn't been nearly as long yet as Kallen had taken, but the clock was ticking.

"Gryffindor!"

Apparently, there was an official metric for a Hatstall, and Neville had fallen short of it by about thirty seconds. So claimed the grapevine.

"MacDougal, Morag."

It did come as a surprise that Neville had gone to Gryffindor, however. Lelouch personally wouldn't have considered him for the house.

"Hufflepuff!"

Watching the Gryffindor table, he noticed Neville fade into the background of the conversation around him without outright removing himself from it.

"Macmillan, Earnest."

That boy would bear watching.

"Hufflepuff!"

In Lelouch's experience, those with hidden depths often bloomed brightest if nurtured.

"Malfoy, Draco."

After all, he'd had a large hand in molding an angry terrorist into a woman he would have been proud to have as his empress.

"Slytherin!"

_Well, that was fast._ The Sorting Hat couldn't have had time for more than a polite greeting before calling out Draco's house.

"Nott, Theodore."

Lelouch turned his attention to the High Table, observing the professors one by one.

"Slytherin!"

Three, Lelouch found, were of primary interest.

"Parkinson, Pansy."

Professor Sprout, of course, was Kallen's Head of House and their Herbology professor. At a glance, she might be the shortest amongst the staff were one to first exclude Professor Flitwick. She'd dressed up for the feast, but she still had a somewhat earthy look about her which he couldn't quite put his finger on. Clearly, she enjoyed working in her greenhouses, although she'd somehow managed to put on a fair amount of weight despite the physical labour required.

"Slytherin!"

The woman otherwise looked to be of a polite and kind disposition. What the Weasleys had told him of her matched Lelouch's own first impression as well.

"Patil, Padma."

On the other end of the table sat a man who obviously wished to be elsewhere. Professor Snape, the Slytherin Head of House, had a greasy look about him that could only come from far too much time in the potions lab. Kallen had once managed to work herself into a similar state before the entire family had promptly shunted her through the emergency disposal hatch into the lake below her lab.

"Ravenclaw!"

A permanent scowl had etched itself onto the man's face, and it only intensified when he caught Lelouch looking in his direction. Far back in his memories, Lelouch vaguely recalled Lily mentioning the dour man on occasion. He was fairly certain the two had once been fast friends while Professor Snape and James had been as close to enemies as school children could be. He could only imagine what her wedding had been like.

"Patil, Parvati."

Lelouch made a note to see what he could do about curbing whatever resentment Professor Snape held against him.

"Gryffindor!"

Then at the centre of the table upon his golden throne sat the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, in long, embroidered robes and a purple cloak. He gave the man points for trying, but the entire ensemble didn't _quite_ come together as it should. Nonetheless, for a man well over a hundred years old, he looked to be in remarkably good health.

"Perks, Sally-Anne."

Lelouch was unsure what to make of Dumbledore, the man who was in all but name King of Magical Britain. He led the Wizengamot. He was both the British representative to the magical equivalent of the UN _and_ the leader of that very same body. He'd retained possession of the headmaster position at Hogwarts despite his decades long involvement in time-consuming political offices. Most of Europe treated him as their saviour for defeating Grindelwald, and Britain all but worshipped him outright.

"Gryffindor!"

Despite all that power, Magical Britain had descended into a civil war which had dragged on for eleven long, brutal years and _still_ infected their society to the present day. Most of the insurgents hadn't even gotten a slap on the wrist after Lily had defeated Voldemort. Something didn't add up. Lelouch had a few theories on what, some which he gave more credence to than others, but he had very little credible information to go on as yet.

"Potter, Harry."

_Everyone_ sat a little straighter and turned in interest to watch the Boy-Who-Lived approach Professor McGonagall. Lelouch sat on the stool and patiently awaited his own conversation with the Sorting Hat.

Lelouch barely felt the hat touch his head when it cried out, "Slytherin!"

Absolute silence.

A goblet slipped from someone's hand at the High Table. Its ringing echoed throughout the Great Hall as it bounced and rolled across the floor.

Lelouch shrugged. "That's fair."

* * *

**A/N:** And that's done. Now that we've got the necessary formalities of canon out of the way, we can completely derail the plot of the first book.

* * *

Behold! A shameless self-promotion! I have a Patrreon account under the username Forthwith if you want to support my writing in general.


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